Blackbird
by Kylie from Connecticut
Summary: What difference would four years make? Lily becomes pregnant while still attending Hogwarts, and the future changes. Eventual HPSS, Slash.
1. Orion Basil Thatcher

**A/N**: Hello! I got an idea stuck in my head, and it just didn't want to go away, so here I am, writing this story. It is going to be slash eventually, of the **Snarry/HPSS** variety, so please don't say that I didn't warn you. However, it won't be coming for a while, and I won't be writing any steamy sex scenes. It isn't my nature, and stuff may be implied, but nothing explicit. Oh! This story is also going to be AU. Kind of obvious with the whole basis of the story, but I am going to veer from canon. There will be some similarities, but please don't complain about the stuff that is different. So now that I got those warnings out of the way up front, I hope you enjoy the story. Reviews and criticism are definitely welcome. If you catch any typos or spelling/grammatical errors, tell me, and I'll do my best to fix them. I'm the only one who has proofread this, so some things may have slipped through. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. All credit goes to the lovely JK Rowling.

* * *

Chapter 1 – Orion Basil Thatcher

Lily wasn't sure what made her act so rashly. Usually she thought things out carefully and took such a long time deciding things, that she usually _over thought_ things rather than acting on impulse. Oh how she wished that were the case now. But when Severus had said those things… oh it had just made her so, so _mad!_

Mudblood. Her childhood friend, the one person she had trusted and relied in all these years had referred to her as dirty blood, something on a lesser level than house elves, more like a mindless animal or cattle. She had only been trying to help him, defending him like he had helped her when Petunia got in one of her spiteful moods. But he had rejected her help. Practically spat in her face for it.

She had known that Severus and her had been growing apart when he had begun hanging out with Dolohov and Malfoy, but she hadn't realized it had gotten this bad. It wasn't her fault; really, he had shrugged off her attempts to speak with him this last summer. But she was to blame for not pursuing and insisting to tend to his bruises.

But while they may be both at fault for their friendship's current state, or rather, lack thereof, it was her own fault for her current situation. Damn it, she couldn't ignore the thing in front of her anymore… both the muggle contraption and magical potion revealed the same thing, she, Lily Evans at age sixteen, was pregnant.

Okay, Lily thought. Let's think this through. She had been mad at Severus for what he said, so in order to spite him, she had finally given into Potter's advances and proceeded to get pregnant? It certainly wasn't the wisest of situations, but that was her current predicament. Lily was actually quite lucky that it was summer still, because she was able to do research on how to handle her… problem.

Abortion was not the solution. Lily, while not necessarily a devout Christian, still believed that killing a life was not going to be the magic wand to clear all her problems away – figuratively or literally. But she still wasn't ready to deal with a child… she was still in school, apprenticeships, and had her whole life ahead of her. Not to mention that she wasn't sure how the wizarding world dealt with a "scarlet woman". From her experience thus far, the wizarding world was actually quite traditional and her action would be detrimental to both Potter and herself.

Seeing that the solution wasn't just going to land in front of her, and not really desiring to sit on the toilet seat for any longer, Lily disposed of both articles into a plastic garbage bag and knotted it shut before cracking open the bathroom door. Seeing that neither her parents nor Tuny were nearby, she quietly went down the stairs before opening the front door into the evening twilight. Inhaling deeply, before finally allowing her shoulders to slump, Lily trudged over to the trash can and lifted the lid before chucking the vile bag into its depths.

Lily then reentered the house and climbed the stairs before gently opening the door to her room and plopping face first onto her bed. What would she do? Lily thought in despair. She indisputably had a bun cooking in the oven, so to speak, and about eight months or so before another witch or wizard was added to the population. Lily was not one to stick about and mope, and thus, after an hour of staring blankly at the ceiling, she stood and went to rummage about in her trunk for one of her spell books. Then, with the mantra of, "I am a Gryffindor. I will be brave_," _continuing in her head, Lily began to read.

* * *

The next month passed slowly as Lily continued to mull over various possible solutions. She had managed to get a job in Diagon Alley which served its purpose twofold in one, getting money to support her child no matter what she decided to do with it… no, him – or her. It also gave Lily access to a plethora of reading material, because her place of employment was at Flourish and Blotts. While not on the same level as Hogwarts' own library, here Lily was able to browse and look at books without Madam Pince hovering over her shoulder or the cataloging system able to track the books being handled.

Another dead end, she thought with some dissatisfaction as she snapped the book shut and shelved it in its proper place. She had finally decided to cast some sort of disillusionment charm or potion; it would solve the problem of other people knowing of her actions, and it would also keep the child out of sight until they were born. Charms and potions were her strongest subjects, and thus the obvious choice, but the problem was that so much magic could not be performed on the growing embryo without causing damage.

Lily reached for another book on the cart behind her. Normally this job could be done easily by magic, but since it was a slow day, the owner of the shop didn't mind if she did it manually. Even the spell that sent the books whizzing to their proper places made mistakes sometimes, or so Graham Chapman claimed. However, the man was very forgetful, and thus this didn't surprise Lily in the slightest as the charm was only as good as its caster.

Glumly she reeled her mind back toward the task at hand. The book she had grabbed was thin, black, and leather bound, but without title. Upon opening it to the table of contents, the expression of boredom and stress melted off of Lily's face as a victorious smirk replaced it. Patience paid off, as it usually did.

* * *

The remaining months of summer passed quickly, and Lily realized with growing horror that a medium sized bump was beginning to form on her lower abdomen. Nothing really noticeable if someone didn't know what to look for, and easily hidden by robes or explained away as a few too many chocolate frogs. Lily and Potter had done the deed in April, already nearly five months ago. Lily still couldn't wrap her mind around what had controlled her actions – sure hormones may have played a small role, but Lily still thought of the fellow Gryffindor as _Potter_, the immature boy chasing after the one thing he could not have. It had been after spring break, and her poor, poor Severus had been pranked… No, he was not hers, never would be, Lily realized. Severus and Lily had chosen separate paths, and it would be best if she would just think of him as Snape from now on. He had spoken irreversible words, and the damage was done. That couldn't be fixed now.

Lily was returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, which was both a terrifying thought and a relief. How would she continue to practice her magic and potions without accidentally causing herself or her baby harm? What would happen should someone figure out about her baby? In the muggle world, she may be looked down upon, but with a traditionalist wizarding world, would she be kicked out of school? The one thing Lily was really looking forward to was being able to _finally_ cast the illusion spell. The black book she had nicked from Flourish and Blotts had a bunch of useful spells, but since she wasn't seventeen yet, they had been of little use so far. It was a shame she hadn't been able to use any of them for her first trimester – morning sickness had absolutely sucked, and hiding it from her parents hadn't been easy. Tuny had found her spewing her guts into the toilet bowl, but had merely assumed it was alcohol after a late night out. Thankfully she hadn't said anything, and Lily could only wish that that was the only problem she had.

Either way, it was time to face her sixth year of Hogwarts.

* * *

The months had passed slowly, oh so slowly. The first kick during defense against the dark arts had been shocking, and when Lily had dropped her wand in shock and clutched her stomach, she had nearly given herself away. Her baby was moving! But she easily waved it off as stomach cramps to her professor, hinting at a feminine monthly problem, which this most certainly was – just not what the blushing man assumed it to be.

Halloween passed and the leaves dropped as the temperature began to fall. Swollen feet were accompanied by odd cravings for coffee flavored ice cream and broiled fish, the first of which was satisfied by propping her feet up on an ottoman while she studied and the second was fulfilled down in the house elf kitchens late on Wednesday evenings or early on Saturday mornings, or whenever the mood struck her. If the strong charm had not been in place, billowing robes would not have solved her predicament. As it was, when James had asked her to the school dance, she had been hard pressed to find a good excuse as to why she had to refuse. Charms could only hide so much.

So instead she had suggested Hogsmede. Why she had done it, Lily wasn't quite sure. The past summer had caused a change in James. Just as abruptly as she had cut Sev-no, Snape from her life, James was suddenly there. And what she saw surprised her and caused a growing amount of fear – Lily Evans was falling for James Potter. He continued to trip over himself in order to hold open doors, and by golly, his cocky swagger would never cease; but he had matured. When she had asked (or rather given an ultimatum), he had stopped pranking Snape, something she never thought would – could – happen. Maybe their… act had caused James to rethink things – Lily certainly had.

Lily stood in front of the mirror in the sixth year girl dorms while straightening her robes. In some ways, Lily wished that sixth year students were eligible for head boy and girl. It truly would have been ideal for dealing with the baby, but life just didn't always cooperate.

Now, Christmas break was here, and frankly, Lily thought it had not come soon enough. She was going home for the holidays as staying at Hogwarts to be scrutinized by professors for her every action was not something she really desired. Going down the stairs, Lily met James standing by the bottom, and together they continued out to the Hogwarts express to grab a compartment together with Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

* * *

Lily's water broke. No, she thought desperately, it was too early. A month too early. Just one more month and she would be able to legally practice magic – she had made a not-quite-so-legal potion that would temporarily stall the ministry's detection spells, now she would be forced to use it. The date was December thirty-first, New Year's Eve, and she had been planning to spend it with friends in Hogsmede. In fact, she had been just ready to hold out her wand and summon the Nightbus. Now, she thought with dry humor, she needed to summon a taxi to the hospital instead. Any other night, any other day would have been preferable, but Lily supposed she should just count her blessings that Tuny was off with that Vernon Darnley – no, Dusty, Duey? Anyway, Tuny was out, and her parents were off enjoying a Shakespeare, if Lily recalled correctly.

She stumbled into the house as another tremor shook her body and she grasped for the phonebook and called the first number she saw. Her vision was cut off as she clenched her eyes closed… she was being torn in two by these friggin contractions! She had read that the pain was immense, but words simply could not describe. Why was the bloody taxi service not answering? Surely the phone had rung several times by now…

" 'Ello, this is Union Jack's Pub and Pizzeria, today's special is-"

"Do you do delivery?" Lily gasped as pain wracked her body again.

"Yes ma'am, it is an additional –"

"I need you to get to this address right now to take me to a bloody hospital," Lily barked as she cut the man off again and quickly rattled off the address before slamming the receiver down and scrambling to collect her savings she had collected over the past summer. Five minutes later the doorbell rang and a nervous teen of about eighteen stood shifting from foot to foot on her front step.

"Ma'am, you said you needed to get to a hospital…?" he started before trailing off. This boy had the nerve to ogle her!

"Shove off, I'm in friggin labor and I called the first number I saw in the phonebook. Now please, can we go?" Lily said as she brushed past the teen and sat in the passenger seat.

The next hours passed in a hazy blur of pain and calm voices murmuring that everything would be alright. Lily only recalled the final push and the minutes passing before a quiet cry rang through the room as she succumbed to sleep.

When Lily woke again, she felt as though her eyelids were made of lead, that she had lost about twenty pounds, and that James was going to kill her for – Lily sat up abruptly as her memories of the previous night flooded back. She frantically searched around the room for her child. With a start, she realized she still did not know the gender of her baby, and that she was still so disoriented that if You-Know-Who were to barge into the room, she would probably offer him tea and biscuits.

A nurse entered the ward and gently placed a hand upon Lily's forehead while checking all of her vitals. Only when she was assured the Lily was indeed alright, just peachy in fact, did she answer her questions. A beautiful baby boy – tiny from being born a month early, but already with a black fuzz coating the top of his head. Born at 11:59 as the year ended. Striking green eyes. "Actually miss, they're just like yours. Stunning emerald shade, although it is quite unusual for a baby's eyes to be a color other than blue…" Seeing Lily's anxious look, the nurse smiled softly while giving a light cluck. She returned with a small body wrapped in a blue blanket.

He was beautiful… A wrinkly and red, but utterly gorgeous baby, and all hers. Reality hit her as sleepy eyes cracked open and she stared into a face equally Lily Evans and James Potter. Sadness unlike anything she had felt previously overwhelmed her as she realized that this could not last. He had to go to the orphanage, like she had planned months and months ago. It had been so easy then, when the boy she had been thinking about was still a shapeless thing without a face. Not part of her and man she was just growing to (dare she think it) love. He still needed a name though…

Harry, Lily immediately thought. It was the name that came up when she and James had tentatively spoken of the future, after Hogwarts. James Potter, if she interpreted the signals correctly, intended to marry her somewhere in her future. While their night of passion had resulted in the little infant in her arms, James was typically more like his traditional pureblood background. Not a blood purist, but still – things were done in a certain order in his mind. Their actions seemed to cause James to look deep within himself – something Lily doubted he would have done anytime soon if _that _had been avoided.

But not now, and this child in her arms would never be officially acknowledged as their child. Damn the wizarding world for the Victorian method of thinking. They were so advanced – marriage could transcend sexes and species, even age wasn't a terribly big issue because witches and wizards could live to be two hundred. Dumbledore when compared with this upper age limit was still a spring chicken! But, Lily thought grimly, something somewhat common in the muggle world, a baby before marriage, was severely shunned.

This child couldn't be her Harry. He could have nothing directly connecting him to either the Potters or the Evans, and that included the name Harry. As Lily pondered the name of the infant in her arms, the pizza delivery boy that had driven her in the previous night nervously stepped into her room. "Ahh, ma'am, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay…" his voice trailed as he saw the black tuft of hair poking out from the bundle in Lily's arms.

"This gentleman stayed the entire night… You're both quite young to be a couple, but the best of luck to you. Quite the devotion between the two of you..." the nurse said before mumbling the last bit to herself as she left the room to the "happy couple".

The boy's face blushed a bright red as he realized the implications that the nurse had just uttered. Lily merely laughed at his embarrassment, and said, "Thank you for bringing me here last night – I'm not sure what other numbers I would have attempted dialing in my desperation to get to a hospital. I'm Lily Evans, by the way. About time we had proper introductions."

"Terry Thatcher, ma'am. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I've never seen a, well…"

"Woman in labor? I'm afraid we can be rather ferocious and unreasonable. Again, I can't thank you enough for what you've done. Take this, you certainly deserve it after staying with some crazy woman and risking your job by skipping the rest of the night," Lily said while handing over a portion of her summer's earnings to Terry Thatcher. He grinned before giving a strange half-bow, half-head bob as he backed out of the room and bumped into some object in his path as he continued down the hall to the elevator.

Now what to name her green-eyed beauty… Nothing directly related to either her or James' families, but the closest thing she could think to do was honor both by connecting the boy in her arms to their friends. James' best friend was Sirius, and certainly would have been the infant's godfather had he waited to be born in another three years. Sirius was one of the hemisphere's constellations and was more of a traditional pureblood name. Perhaps Orion? He was a great hunter in Greek mythology. Her little hunter, her beautiful Orion, Lily decided. For a second name she would tie it back to one of her best friends. Immediately Lily's mind was drawn to Sev - no, Snape. Although his memory brought pain and betrayal, it also brought warmth and fondness for lazy summer afternoons. It was through him that Lily had discovered her affinity with potions. Not nearly on the same level as him, but all the same…

Basil, Lily decided. The Evans had a certain fondness for plant names (flowers usually, but since her little Orion was a boy, that would be just cruel), and this spice was sometimes used as a potion ingredient – something to tie her childhood friend to her son. And now for a surname – Thatcher, Lily decided with a grin. Named for two best friends and a pizza delivery boy, that was her precious Orion Basil Thatcher. And with that final thought, Lily left the muggle hospital with a few well placed confundous charms – she was just so glad she had followed the boy scouts' motto of "always be prepared". Being able to use magic for the next twenty-four hours undetected was going to be a life send…

Several hours later, Lily stood in front of an orphanage in the White chapel district. Orion was sleeping contentedly in her arms and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before lowering his tightly bundled form onto the orphanage step. The blanket had several warming charms on it and several security spells that would hopefully provide her little boy with comfort as he grew older. She had written on a spare piece of parchment the name, "Orion Basil Thatcher," and then safety pinned it to the blanket so that the matrons would know his name.

Her job was done, but before leaving, Lily looked back and attempted to engrain the scene eternally into her mind. Then, she turned and walked a few blocks before summoning the Nightbus. Two hours and many explanations to her boyfriend, friends, and family later, Lily raised her wand to her temple and tearfully muttered, "Obliviate."

* * *

Please Review!


	2. Childhood

**A/N:** Hello again! I got this chapter done in under a week, so I thought I would post it a little early. :) On a side note, I aim for around 4,000 words per chapter, just in case any of you were wondering. Someone said that the title reminded them of the Beatles, and it does! Extra cookies for you. However, I'm not sure how much that is going to play into the story. At the very least, it will have a minor role, but the whole "Blackbird" thing is more with the lyrics to the song. As for Lily/James and the prophecy... you will just have to wait and see. :D

Before I forget, thankyou to my reviewers! XLVIII, sernity1806, Morgana-White, Deby Magid, Lelldorinn, Iago96, Murks, Melly Black, and reader1writer1. Thankyou all - and thankyou to those that added this on alert or favorites. All of it just motivates me to write faster. :)

**Warning:** This will be HP/SS slash in later chapters, so please don't tell me I didn't warn you.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, sadly, will never be mine.

* * *

Chapter 2 – Childhood

Five Years Later

It was Orion's first day of school. He was terribly excited, and his five year old self had woken up especially early to pack his second hand backpack and off brand school supplies. He had even attempted to smooth his black mop of hair, although that hadn't worked especially well, it just made it more… well, the effect was irresistibly cute, but Orion's straightening and combing only made his hair messier. He was barely able to swallow his food from his excitement, but he managed – barely. After all, from all the whisperings he'd heard about school, almost no mention was given to food. Something, that was in fact, very unusual for a school (since usually _some_ complaint was given), but little Orion had no knowledge of this.

What Orion _had_ heard were numerous complaints about school this, and school that, and that once Orion started school, he would absolutely hate it. He wasn't so sure of this, after all, they were going to be learning to read – soon he would be able to read stories of magic and dragons without the reluctant and bored overtone of the orphanage employees. The employees only read to the children every once in a great while, and usually after a week of begging on Orion's part, they would finally give in. Although Orion knew that no such thing as magic existed, he dreamt of a world where he could use magic so that he could find his parents – find a family.

Orion's early years of life had been no cake walk – from the evening Lily Evans left her son bundled on the orphanage's doorstep, problems plagued him. Although Lily had left him sitting outside on the evening of January first, it wasn't until late afternoon the next day that someone literally stumbled across him. The head matron had spent the night of January first on a "night out", or in simpler terms, a drinking binge. While normally a kind enough woman, she had just gone through a traumatic divorce, and the thought of spending the evening taking care of a bunch of kids was not a pleasant one. So, in a "clever" move, she had forgone the normal night of partying and festivities so as to not alert her superiors, and then on the night of the first, had curled up on the sofa drinking glass after glass of cheap wine.

To add to poor Orion's terrible luck, that night had one of the worst snow storms in the past decade. So come the next morning, many employees called into the orphanage saying how the snow would prevent them from getting to work, and the head matron was knocked out on the couch. The children of the orphanage? The older ones wisely stayed in their rooms so as not to risk the wrath of a hung over woman, while some took care of the wailing babies in cribs. None complained because it was not the first day they had missed a meal, and probably not the last. And so Orion sat in the frigid cold, unaware of the goings of the world about him, sleeping as babies do, and very hungry because he had not yet had any nourishment.

He was discovered at 3:49 to the shock of his finder, and then immediately rushed to a hospital. It was proclaimed a miracle that he had survived the night, but numerous health problems and illnesses would plague his early life thus scaring off potential parents and families thinking of adopting him. They would see an adorable baby boy, but attached to him were endless medical bills and in his first months, the fear of his death.

Thus Orion also yearned subconsciously for another thing from school – friends, people who would see him as normal. Not the sick pariah that the children at the orphanage had come to see him as, but just Orion.

And so when Orion set foot on school grounds and the other children from the orphanage scattered, he squared his thin shoulders and inhaled deeply before starting forward into the formidable building known as school.

Several hours later, Orion emerged from the kindergarten classroom bearing a large grin while talking excitedly to a fellow student named Suzie, "It was just so much fun! And after lunch during recess Tim asked if we wanted to play ball. At the orphan… Some older kids I know said school was awful, but I've never had this much fun before."

Suzie nodded eagerly, "Oh I know. All Kate – my older sister – talks about is homework and how school is just a waste of time. You'll play some hopscotch and jump rope with us girls, right? Most boys say girls have kooties, but not you. I like you Orion."

Orion grinned with pleasure at being asked to participate in some activity. This was pure paradise – no one knew him as the "sick" kid, and he had friends. So what if some of them were girls and "unmanly" games? A friend was a friend, and that was that.

Lining up in the lunch line, Orion grabbed a silver tray like the other people in front of him, and set in on the sliding counter so that he could hold it steady as food was being served to him. A heaping scoop of macaroni and cheese was placed on his plate, followed by numerous cooked carrots, a carton of chocolate milk, and even two cookies. He stared at his tray in confusion as he realized those around him only got one cookie, before he looked up to meet the cafeteria worker's eyes. She grinned down at him, and would have ruffled his hair had she not been wearing gloves. The woman thought this little kindergartner looked just a tad underfed, and the second cookie would not be missed. She winked at him before placing a cookie on the next student's tray. Orion snapped out of his daze and went to go sit with Suzie and his other new friends.

Lunch ended, Orion's stomach was full from the sheer amount of food he had consumed. The orphanage attempted to take care of its "permanent residents" – or children that weren't taken in by a foster family or adopted, but it had limits. In Orion's case, most of his funding had gone toward medical bills and basic necessities such as clothing and the school supplies he now had.

Now eager to go to recess, Orion followed his newfound friends outside. Unfortunately for him, he was the last one out the door, and the people waiting for him leapt at the opportunity presented. Orion's arm was trapped under the firm grip of an older boy, as he was dragged to a corner of the school yard and slammed up against a wall. His head collided with the hard surface, and his already poor vision was soon seeing double. A voice spoke, "Look, I know you think school is going to be all rainbows and butterflies kid, but you see this Tim you're hanging out with? His older brother is my best friend, and I won't have you giving his kid brother some nasty disease. You're a freak Thatcher, nothing but a bad one. From now on, you're not to hang out with all the normal kids, you hear?"

Orion slowly nodded his head, he was already dizzy from being slammed into the wall, and the hard shake at the end of this boy's statement didn't help. Orion vaguely thought he recognized the voice, but surely thought it wasn't plausible… Unfortunately, his suspicions were correct. The four boys in front of him, one acting as lookout, were from the orphanage. They had ignored him thus far, but he should have known better. Orion should have known better than to believe that school would be different than the orphanage. He wasn't wanted by a family, so why should he be allowed to associate with normal children with families and siblings? He would just end up getting them sick, someone might even die. That was why his mom had left him at the orphanage, because he was just some "sick freak".

A cuff to the back of his head snapped Orion from his musings. "Thatcher? Pay attention freak. To make sure that you learn your lesson about associating with _normal_ people, Marcus here is going to teach you a little lesson. Oh, and think of telling this to anyone – _anyone_ – and you'll be sure to regret it." The hands on his shoulders were removed, but pain was quick to replace it as punches and kicks were placed on areas covered by clothing. Time seemed to pass slowly, but a bell off in the distance signaled the end of Orion's first beating.

Orion gingerly opened the eyes he had subconsciously closed several minutes ago. He was very much alone, and almost all the students had made their way back inside. Orion attempted to run towards the doors, but only managed a fast limp. He just made it in just before the front door was locked by one of the teachers. The professor smiled down at Orion and gave him a slight nudge toward his classroom before walking off.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Tim and Suzie attempted to talk to him, but he gave them the cold shoulder and refused to talk. Having known Orion for but a scant number of hours, they shrugged it off and went to play with their other peers. The only plus side left to Orion's day was learning how to write his name. Orion Basil Thatcher.

And so ended his first day of primary school.

* * *

Four Years Later

Orion was running. While it would have been nice to imagine that he was running for a game of kickball, or at some sporting event, this was not the case. Orion was running from his pursuers, his own personal bullies. He supposed that he could take this entire situation as a complement that they went to all the trouble for some sickly child, but right now, Orion was focused solely on running as fast as he could, or finding a hiding place. Whichever got him away first.

Orion's schooling ever since that fateful first day had been rather unique. His teachers couldn't get enough of the cute boy with dark hair and bottle green eyes – not only was he a natural introvert that caused no disruption in class, but he threw himself into his studies, or what little studies a fifth grader could be having. The word "genius" was thrown around the teachers' lounge, but since they had already moved him up one grade level, there was no talk of letting him skip another grade. After all, it would have been unnatural for his social development.

His fellow students saw Orion rather differently. After he had "snubbed" the now popular Tim and Suzie, he was seen as a stuck-up loner. Being moved up a grade in fact seemed to worsen his situation for the older kids didn't want to associate with the "youngster" and his former classmates still saw him as the conceited outsider. The fact that he succeeded in his studies with little difficulty only got the description of "nerd and geek" tacked onto his reputation. Orion's professors, while loving the boy for his excellent class work, were in fact quite oblivious to his social situation because he had no parent to be concerned for him, and Orion himself gave no indication of suffering.

The sport of Orion chasing was called "Hairy Hunting" because when he had been six, his pursuers had caught him and in an attempt to ostracize him, they had cut his hair. It had been an uneven and hacking hair cut, with Orion's scalp slightly swollen from his hair being pulled with places bleeding slightly where the scissors had cut too close. The next morning, however, his "famous" locks were back to their former messy glory. Thus, the chase after Orion was named.

Orion had no idea what had caused his hair to grow back overnight, but it only caused the bullying to worsen. Where before he had been just a sickly kid that the bullies didn't want associating with anyone, now he truly "deserved" the title of freak. His tormenters in fact feared part of Orion, and when facing this thing they did not understand and feared, they attacked. Viciously.

Another episode occurred when Orion was seven – he had not eaten any food for two days because his bullies had taken it upon themselves to eat his share of food. After all, they were growing boys and Orion was just… well, he was just a nobody. They had had him cornered and Orion had squeezed his eyes shut, and whimpering had said, "Just let me get away. Let me go please." Upon opening his eyes he found himself on the roof of the school building, far away from his tormentors. He had quickly scrambled to find a way down, and had luckily found an oak tree close to the roof's edge. One broken arm and severe scolding about climbing trees later, Orion never seemed to have a moment's peace.

And now Orion was running. His socks slid on the wooden floors as he rounded a corner in the orphanage and he quickly changed directions as he headed toward his room. Orion considered himself to be quite fortunate that he had his own room. (It had taken some begging on his part, but when faced with some logical arguments and the tear-filled gaze of Orion, the head matron had been helpless to resist. She had reasoned that it was the least she could do for the boy she had unwittingly plagued with sickness by leaving him outside as a baby for so long.) Thankfully, the door to his room was open, and so Orion dived under his bed and after making sure his blankets were arranged just so, that way he wouldn't be seen in his hiding place. He covered his mouth with both hands to quiet his heavy breathing as he lay on his stomach in the dim light.

Heavy feet came pounding down the corridor. "Where'd he go?"

"I dunno Ralph, reckon he went outside?"

"Nah Marcus, Rob was waiting by the back door to make sure he couldn't double back."

"But what if he went out the front door Ralph?" a third voice piped in.

"Awww, Mikey, you were supposed to be watching the front door. By now he could be all the way to Baker Street. I guess we could always have the freak do our homework when he gets back if he really wants to save his neck from…" The voices faded as they left the hallway.

Orion waited for a few minutes before tentatively crawling out from under his bed. This hiding spot had saved him for the past few days, and he didn't want to give away its location by being too careless. As he slid across the floorboards, his shirt sleeve caught on the corner of one board. Orion tugged at his shirt, but the fabric would not come uncaught. He frowned in frustration, this was one of his better shirts – for one it actually fit him, and he didn't want to rip it by yanking to hard. So, sliding his fingers along the edge of the wooden panel, Orion pulled.

To his surprise, the board lifted. Beneath was an area between the second floor and the floor beneath him, and sitting on one wooden beam were books. Dozens of books. Wrinkling his forehead in concentration and curiosity, Orion reached down and carefully grabbed one of the thinner books in the first stack. Lifting it out and bringing it into the light, he blew lightly to remove the thick layer of dust coating the cover. Upon seeing the title, he froze: The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk.

"Spells?" Orion mumbled to himself in disbelief. He opened the book randomly to a page in the middle of the book. He nearly jumped when he saw the images on the pages. The pictures were moving! Captivated, Orion read a few paragraphs before returning to the first page and reading the statement by the author. This book was meant to teach growing witches and wizards? Magic? It couldn't be possible, yet here it was. The dreams he had for so long thought impossible and fantastical were now within his grasp. Orion scrambled to look at the other books hidden beneath these very floorboards. As almost a secondary thought, he shut the door quietly and propped his chair beneath its doorknob. If his bullies returned, they would be able to get in, but it would give him time to hide whatever he found now.

Books upon books were brought into the light and sorted into various piles. There were books about potions, charms, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, one battered copy of a book about the dark arts (most likely misplaced because it had been in a pile about the dark art's defense), runes, arithmancy, magical creatures, herbology, and one book called _Hogwarts a History._ Orion was overwhelmed by the sheer number of books that had been hidden – so much knowledge. So much to learn; for Orion had already decided he would learn.

Wishing to know his mysterious benefactor's identity, Orion flipped to the inside cover of one of the books. Written in a slanted, spidery scrawl was the statement, "Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle".

* * *

Two Years Later

Orion was eleven. Prior to the day he now thought of as "The Discovery", this would have meant nothing, but to Orion, it was everything. Eleven was the year young wizards and witches were sent letters containing a precious invitation to attend Hogwarts. It was the year he would figure out if he was just a common muggle, or a wizard – a being able to wield magic.

He thought he would be a wizard; after all, he seemed to be able to do things that shouldn't have been possible. Usually it was only when he was being chased – the dreaded Hairy Hunting had not stopped, only continued to plow on as the older four desired to prove themselves with the influx of puberty – but sometimes Orion was able to do things as he waved a pencil in the way described. One thing that Orion couldn't explain was his strange ability to talk to snakes. It had developed one afternoon in his sixth grade class when they went to the zoo as a field trip for a science project. When peering through the glass of an exhibit while the rest of his classmates ran about rapping at the glass and nearly bowling over old ladies, he had nearly fallen over when he had clearly heard the boa constrictor within say, "Damned kids."

He had stared at it with his jaw hanging slightly open for a full five minutes. A hard shoulder bumped into his shoulder and caused him to snap out of his reverie, "Watch it Thatcher. You might catch some flies in there – just like the toad you are. _Then_ where would you be when you try to kiss the ass of our next teacher?" He had quickly lowered his eyes and ignored the insult as the area around him cleared up a bit. Apparently watching a lethargic snake was terribly boring in the eyes of most preteens. Orion glanced to the left and right before leaning up to the glass and whispering, "You didn't just talk, did you?"

The snake's head gave a slight jerk as its coiled body began to move closer to the raven-haired boy leaning close to the glass. "A speaker? I haven't been privileged enough to ever encounter one before. And yes, human, I did just speak. Not that most of your idiotic species would be able to understand the exquisite language."

"What's your name?" He paused for a second, "Hold it, there are others like me?"

"The humans gave me some trivial name, but since I've been raised in captivity, I've never had the opportunity to earn myself a _real_ name. And yes, hatchling, there are – or at least there were at one point – others like you."

Orion hummed under his breath. Maybe this would prove to Hogwarts that he was a wizard? But it wasn't really magic, not really. It was just another language. Probably pretty common too if he, just an ordinary boy in an orphanage, could speak it. The sixth grade teacher called their class to leave, to go back to the White Chapel district. Just peachy really, back to the orphanage and his bullies. Oh happy day. The only consolation that he had was that at least he wouldn't have to deal with them next year, and hopefully never again after that. Since they were two grades ahead of him, they would be in their first year of secondary school when Orion began seventh grade. And then, maybe, in his wildest dreams: Hogwarts.

"Bye, I hope one day you get to get to journey outside of these walls. You really are a pretty cool snake. The first one I've ever talked to, really. Oh, and good luck earning yourself a name. Personally, my vote goes toward Balthazar. Umm… yeah, so it was nice meeting you!" Orion winced as he turned away – it would be just like him to ramble to a snake. As he turned, he failed to see the snake bow its head in response before slowly fading from its location. The serpent had hissed slightly in surprise before it landed far, far away, across the ocean and in a tree in Brazil.

Orion snapped out of his memory by shaking his head. It would do no good pondering the ifs and buts of what was yet to happen. Right now, he needed to get his math homework done before tomorrow's test. Plus, he had promised himself that he was going to start looking at the secondary school curriculum. If he did get the letter from Hogwarts, he would want to keep up with what he was learning through his muggle schooling.

For one thing, arithmancy was just basic math. In fact, Orion was already to the fifth year wizarding books on this subject. Orion found arithmetic to be easy, and it seemed to be the only area where muggles truly had wizards beat. Thus, it was only logical on his part to learn all that he could about math so that he could use it in other subjects.

Runes seemed to walk hand in hand with arithmancy, and Orion was still struggling through the second book. Granted, in what he read in Hogwarts a History, runes was an optional class, and he was still way ahead of where he needed to be, but it was just so hard looking at all the squiggly figures and trying to figure out the correct way everything needed to be drawn and oriented, much less what they all meant. But if he ever wanted to make his own spells or even use something like wards, it was definitely a must.

Transfiguration and charms were both fascinating to read about – but it was all theory to him. Since he didn't have a wand, he couldn't actually perform any of the spells. Still, he practiced the pronunciation and wand movement with a pencil. A few times he had gotten a pebble to zoom about the room, or the color of a piece of paper to change, but nothing really more than that. Unfortunately, both of these subjects were very much rooted in the magical world, so he had nothing further to study from his muggle school from this.

Defense against the dark arts was also something he would love to try. But again, with no wand and no evil wizard to throw some nasty curses at, it didn't really apply to him at this time. Same with the magical creatures text, but after reading some of this book, he had started looking around him. Orion began noticing owls flying about during the day (he certainly wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking), and people walked out of alleys where no one had been just seconds previously. Once, he had even thought he saw someone flying on a broomstick – but he quickly assured himself that he was mixing fairy tales with reality at this point. Surely witches and wizards didn't _really _ride on broomsticks. As for the single dark arts book he had, he never brought it out of its home under the floorboards again. It caused a strange shiver to race up and down his spine, so Orion left it alone. Maybe one day he would be able to read it, but right now he would rather face a hundred Ralph, Marcus, Rob, and Mikey's than study it. It made him feel… wrong and violated in some way.

Potions and herbology sounded the most fascinating, because they were both something he could actually actively practice at this point. Potions was a strange combination of muggle chemistry and magic. It seemed as though each ingredient's inherent magical properties reacted differently with each other depending on how they were combined and prepared. Already Orion had begun attempting to rewrite some potions so that they could be recreated with common materials available to muggles (mainly herbs like basil and rosemary, but also kind of gross things like newt eyes and toad spleen). As long as the final product achieved the same magical interaction of ingredients, it would theoretically achieve the same physical result. Theoretically. Hopefully Orion would be able to speak with a professor about it when he got to Hogwarts. Then herbology… well it seemed like extreme gardening. Since one of Orion's regular punishments for running around the orphanage was either working out in the garden or being denied a meal (not that it was _his _fault he was being chased), it didn't seem too challenging.

None the less, Orion vowed that he would know this material backwards and forwards. _When_ he got the letter, he would prove that he was a somebody. Maybe the wizards and witches would help fix whatever was wrong with him – help cure his sicklyness and freakishness. He could only hope at this point.

For the time being, he would focus on getting ahead in his muggle studies – the only difficulty would be to get his hands on the secondary school books. As Orion's door was kicked open and he was hauled out of his chair before being cuffed on the back of the head with a low growl of "Thatcher" being muttered, he silently reflected that that wouldn't be too difficult.

* * *

Orion's seventh year of primary school ended, and the summer months slowly passed by. Every day, he would look out his window, searching the horizon for some owl – some salvation. But each day ended, no owl came, and all Orion went to bed with were additional bruises. Summer was the worst because the bullies (he'd finally decided to call the four of them the "Foul Four" a deviant of the fantastic four) were bored and didn't seem to have something better to occupy their time. Orion couldn't even wiggle himself out of the situations in which he was cornered by offering to do homework – after all, that is the definition of summer vacation: no homework.

As September approached, Orion grew morose as his childish hopes and wishes began to fail him. Already a skinny boy from being underfed, he skipped meals so as to spend more time reading his books about magic. When September first arrived and he walked into the eighth grade classroom of his primary school, it was like some part of him had died.

Orion's teachers never suspected that their prize pupil may in any way be depressed – he still performed to the best of his abilities, and his papers were never less than perfect. As for his peers, Orion was a loner. Whether he was a "normal" loner or a depressed loner, it made no difference because no one would be able to detect a difference.

Orion's saving grace ended up coming on a pair of wings in late October – it was just not the thing he had been expecting.

"Ha! Do you think it's dead?" The teenager known as Ralph asked before poking at the limp blackbird with a stick.

"Eh – I don' really care, fat lot of good it does us. Tell me again why we aren't hunting down Thatcher to do our homework right now?" Rob responded.

"You know as well as I do that he's probably in that room of his waving his pencil around so that he can cast some 'magic spell' on us so that we'll leave his bloody hide alone," Mikey said with a little wiggle of his fingers and rolling of his eyes at the word "magic".

And thus the conversation continued on in a similar fashion, with none of its occupants noticing the slight figure of Orion lurking in the shadows and trying to discern what exactly they were doing. Eventually the "Foul Four" became tired of poking and harassing the near dead bird, and with a final kick, they left in search of either food, or a punching bag – whichever they stumbled across first. As soon as they were out of sight, Orion rushed to the small blackbird lying on the ground. Gently he lifted the bird in his hands and then snuck back up to his room.

As he placed the bird upon his desk, he began talking in a soothing voice to the bird, "Hey there now. The Foul Four got a hold of you, didn't they? I'm surprised they got a hold of you seeing as you are "fowl" yourself." He chuckled lightly, "Hey, I know it's a bad joke, but laughing usually helps the pain. Sometimes it just makes them hit harder, though. Anyway, hopefully this concoction I made will also help, seeing as birds can't technically laugh. See, I thought I was going to be going to Hogwarts, but it turns out I just don't have what they were looking for. I've continued to study though, and that's how I came up with this potion. The one key component for making any potion though, is that it has to be made by someone with magic. Somehow that sets off the reaction – allows the magical properties to intermingle and acts as some sort of catalyst." Orion paused in his rubbing the salve into the bird's wing.

He bit his lip nervously before continuing, "See, I'm afraid that unless I have some magic, all my studying and rewriting these potions formulas will be for nothing. So I've actually got a lot riding on you little fella. Here, I've got one more potion for you." An eyedropper was inserted into the bird's beak and the potion was ingested. "Technically the first was a salve, but you're not going to get too technical on me, are you? I didn't think so," Orion gave another tired laugh.

"I guess that's it for you, hmm. Lots of bed rest for you before you'll be doing any flying. I'll have to go to our school's library in order to do some research to make a splint for your wing, but I think you'll be okay… as long as my potions work." Orion heaved another sigh and then leaned back in his chair before getting up and opening his wardrobe to look at his few possessions. Orion honestly hoped his potions worked – if not, the little black bird would be dead by nightfall.

He had a box full of potions ingredients – okay, so they were really just herbs, a garter snake skin (the snake – Cyprus, had been most kind about the whole ordeal. Had said to Orion that he could come out and talk to him whenever he wanted, and if he ever needed another snake shedding, to just give him a heads up), and some strange dead insect he had found the other day. Really, did butterflies have wings that actually changed color? Nope, so Orion had been quite proud of himself when he properly identified that potions ingredient in the book's glossary. But he would keep collecting these things in the hope that he would be able to make potions.

Orion winced as he looked at the assorted chemical equipment in his wardrobe. He had a few glass beakers, glass stirring rods, test tubes, one hot plate, an eyedropper, and a small knife. He had nicked them from the classroom when he had realized what he would actually need to prepare a potion. They weren't the same as an actual cauldron, and all the little factors of using nonmagical supplies effected the final potion, but he hoped that it would just weaken the final strength of the potion rather than causing it not to work. As for the actual theft - Orion had spent an entire week not avidly running from the Foul Four as a self-induced punishment for his stealing. It had been painful for the remaining days of the month, because he had not actually perfected any of the potions formulas he was developed, and plus, the Foul Four seemed to take vindictive pleasure in causing him pain – especially so when he rolled over and took it without fight.

Orion's gaze skimmed over his neatly organized school supplies and folded clothing. Most of it was too big for him – clothing that was too small or even close to fitting was immediately taken away for the younger children to wear. Finally, his eye settled on a pile of three worn, but clean white undershirts. The edges of one shirt were frayed for Orion used this to make bandages for himself. Normally he would tear a long strip of the fabric and use it, but now he bundled up the fabric of the three shirts and placed it in a box he had taken from the kitchen some months ago.

He placed the box on his desk, near to the window, and then he lifted the blackbird and placed it in the cotton nest he had created. Now all he had to do was wait.

The bird healed unnaturally fast – within a day, it was able to lift its head and chirp softly. By the next morning, the bird was crying for food. Orion found a bag of dried cranberries and fed these along with additional potion to the demanding avian, while he also saved a small portion of every meal for his new friend. Gone was the bird knocking on death's door, and Orion was able to set the bird's wing, but within another two days, the splint was unneeded as the bird hopped around on Orion's desk or perched itself on Orion's shoulder as he worked to study three curriculums at once: his undemanding eighth grade material, the tenth grade material of the Foul Four, and the knowledge to be gained from the wizarding world. While most eleven-almost-twelve-year-olds would have buckled under all the work being heaped upon them, Orion instead became more efficient and thrived under his workload.

For one thing stood out clear in the little blackbird's recovery: it wasn't for lack of magic that Orion hadn't been accepted to Hogwarts.

* * *

Please review! (And have a nice day. :) )


	3. Leaky Cauldron

**A/N: **Hello again! I'm sure you're all as surprised as I am that I'm updating again - for some reason I just couldn't stop writing this weekend, although now I definitely needed to work on homework. Also, for future reference, my original intentions were to only update once a week, maybe every other week. So when my homework and papers get to become overbearing (and it's a question of when, not if), then the updates will most likely slow in frequency.

Anyway, now that that unpleasant business is out of the way, I had a few questions and comments from my readers that I was going to answer.

(1) Someone from the UK brought to my attention that they have public healthcare in England. Oops...? I'm really sorry for those of you found this part annoying, but as an American, I didn't think of this difference. Unfortunately, it stays because Harry/Orion needed a good reason to stay in the orphanage. If anyone else spots any other mistake, please bring it to my attention, and I'll try to fix it.

(2) Another reviewer asked about the different ages of everyone in the story. Good question! (My reviewers are so smart. ;) ) Orion was born December 31st, 1976 - about 3 and 1/2 years older than canon Harry. Severus's birthday is 1/9/60... so he's about 17 years older than Orion. Too my understanding, students at Hogwarts have a bit of flexibility in how old they can be for their grade level. For example: Lily was 16 when she got pregant with Orion, but she was at the end of her fifth year at Hogwarts. So, in reality, canon Harry is actually pretty young for his class. I hope that made sense.

A big thankyou to my reviewers as well: Loony Dagda, Deby Magid, sernity1806, minijo1990, history, moogle, Tonks-is-cool, Elfwyn, Gondegoogoo, Graven Lament, xXFreedom-ReaderXx, XLVIII, WynterRavenheart, Dreams-of-Mine, cleofine_cat, My Solitude, Xenia Marvolo, Adriana Black, loveshbhp, and Morgana-White. Also thanks to everyone who put me on alerts or favorites!

I won't ramble any longer so I won't bore you to death, I hope you enjoy the chapter - it's more of a transition so not too terribly exciting... To be perfectly honest, I hope it doesn't bore you to death. :) Anyhow... Have a nice day!

**Warning:** Will eventually be HPSS aka Harry/Severus slash.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, no money being made.

* * *

Chapter Three – Leaky Cauldron

Six and a Half Years Later

Orion was ready. His meager belongings were neatly organized and tucked away in a single worn duffle bag that he had gotten from one of his fellow classmates – it had been a single moment of luck, because the athlete had quit the basketball team and had been hell bent on throwing out or destroying anything he owned pertaining to basketball. That included the duffel sitting on Orion's bed. His books had been more troublesome because they would not so easily fit inside of the fabric bag. Eventually, he had hung around the kitchens and begged the workers for a box or crate – again he had lucked out and had received two sturdy boxes that had at one point held apples for the school lunch.

Orion had waited many long and troublesome years for this day, and it was with no small amount of pleasure that he thought about leaving the awful orphanage behind. He had considered leaving the instant he had turned seventeen in December, because that was the age of adulthood in the wizarding world, but upon careful reconsideration, Orion had decided to wait the additional six months it would take him to earn his secondary school diploma. While only a sheet of paper that would mean little in the magic world, if Orion was somehow mistaken and he didn't have magic, then he would still have a backup plan.

So Orion had graduated – valedictorian of his class too. He had given the typical boring speech expected of him, because despite attending the same school with the same faces for his entire life, Orion didn't _know _anyone. Sure he had acquaintances and people he may nod to in the hallways, but friends were decidedly nonexistent. Friends implied that someone would want to spend time with Orion, and he knew this wasn't the case. He had been the loner in primary school, and secondary school was no different.

The only thing that really kept Orion's sanity was the tiny blackbird that he had rescued that fateful day in October. Ever since he had saved the bird's life from certain death, it had become very attached to the raven-haired man. Orion had tried to shoo it away, but it would keep coming back every morning and would sit on his windowsill pecking at the glass until Orion would let it in. Thus, the blackbird became Ringo. Growing boys needed social interaction no matter if they were loners or not, and thus Ringo provided this. Orion was able to pour his emotions into the avian he had unexpectedly healed, and it saved him from the brink of depression.

Orion's _human _interaction was somewhat limited, but he was able to debate with his professors as he grew more and more knowledgeable in their areas of study. The Foul Four, however, prevented any normal childhood that Orion may have anticipated.

So now Orion had a rough plan sketched out in his mind – it had quite a bit of room for flexibility, and error (his mind silently added this second description, for he felt that his plans had many holes in them). First he would leave the orphanage, easily said and easily done. Orion was going to leave in the early morning before anyone was awake yet. That way he had a good night's sleep under his belt along with the knowledge that businesses and such would be open in just a few hours time.

Second, he had to find Diagon Alley and get a job, save up some money to buy a wand, and live happily ever after. This, obviously, was the shaky part of the plan. Orion knew that Diagon Alley was somewhere in London because of what he had read in _Hogwarts A History_, and that it was where students purchased their school supplies and such. A shopping district of sorts… but beyond the fact that it was in London and invisible to muggles, Orion had no idea of its location.

Orion glanced out of his window to see a soft glow on the horizon. It was time to leave, but he needed one more thing before he could leave. Gently opening the single-pane glass window, he gave a low whistle. Ringo the blackbird came fluttering in and perched easily on Orion's outstretched hand. Orion had actually been quite nervous after he became attached to his tiny friend – blackbirds had an average life expectancy of two and a half years. While Ringo had certainly been a juvenile when he had saved him, Orion didn't want _anything_, not even death, to take away his first real friend. Orion's current theory was that Ringo, being raised in "captivity" (in other words, constantly nagging Orion for attention and food) would have an extended life.

"Ready to go?" Orion asked with a raised eyebrow. Ringo responded by giving a sharp tug to a clump of Orion's hair. "Ow… no need to be prickly and get all sensitive. Well, here we go. It's a good thing the orphanage isn't that far from the tube, otherwise it would be hard to drag these boxes around." Orion grabbed the two boxes while shouldering the duffel bag across his body. He winced slightly under the weight. While very aerobically fit from his running… "activities"… Orion had a very slight figure. He was proud to say he stood at five feet eight and a half inches – with trainers. His nutrition during his childhood (or rather lack thereof) had caused Orion's growth to be stunted.

Not that was the orphanage or the school's fault. Not really. The Foul Four seemed to rotate amongst themselves who would take Orion's meal, and then sometimes the orphanage just didn't have the funds to give the children large meals (one thing Orion was looking forward to was no more cabbage soup), so it was somewhat of a cumulative effect.

So he was skinny – a bit boney if a person were to look underneath the baggy clothing and be perfectly honest about it. There was absolutely nothing wrong with having a runner's physique, and this was what Orion told himself when he was having one of his "sensitive days" and the taunts and comments landed harder than they normally did. As for his hair… Well, it was pitch black, and just a _tad_ unruly. When Orion had turned fourteen, he had grown his hair out a bit in an attempt to stop people from ruffling his hair. He had been a teenager for two years, and teenagers just didn't get their hair… ruffled. Orion shuddered at the thought even as he crept down the staircase toward the orphanage's entrance.

His hair wasn't even shoulder length – just long enough to dissuade the scare the old ladies but not quite long enough to tie it back into any sort of ponytail. An unexpected side effect was that slightly longer hair equated to slightly less messy hair (very good in his book). Orion felt his only other really notable features were his eyes. He was extremely close sighted and his primary school teachers had figured this out after he was squinting at the chalk board – the board that was fifteen feet away. So the orphanage had purchased him glasses – tacky round things with really thick lenses. Orion had been so happy when his face had outgrown the child-sized spectacles and his prescription had changed slightly. He had had more say in his glasses the second time around.

In a nervous gesture, Orion raised a hand to fiddle with said glasses before he eased the front door open and winced slightly when a creaking noise filled the silence. He hurried to slip outside and made sure the door was closed and locked behind him before he set off for the train station.

* * *

So maybe strolling around downtown muggle London hadn't been the brightest idea. Especially with two heavy boxes filled with books. Orion had expected to run into _some _witch or wizard by this point, but he had not taken into account the two most popular forms of transportation: apparition and the floo network.

And so he set the two boxes down on a bench (to the relief of his arms) and then gratefully plopped down next to his belongings. He couldn't continue like this for much longer, Orion realized. He had very nearly been pick pocketed a scant seven times. While some of the thefts had been avoided due to Ringo's sharp eyes and pointy beak, Orion thought that some had been avoided due to the warding he had done on his possessions. Orion had become quite adept in some aspects of wandless magic, but he had thought warding and runes to be beyond him. Maybe he had been wrong.

Orion paused at the thought of the spells he was able to cast wandlessly. One spell he had been able to master early on was the "point me" spell. It had been quite handy when someone had hid his glasses or nicked one of his books (nonmagical, of course). Could he use it to find a location? He knew it worked on both living and nonliving things (Ringo and food for Ringo), but would it be able to find a place? Well, Orion felt it was worth a shot. He had very limited funds (the money he had saved over the years and that from a small writing contest he had entered the previous year), so he _needed _to find Diagon Alley rather than spend his money on a hotel or other such things.

So, taking out a standard number two pencil, Orion placed the writing utensil on his flat palm and whispered, "Point me."

The pencil whirled around a few times like a compass struggling to find north, but it finally settled on a certain direction. Orion allowed his gaze to follow the direction in which the pencil pointed, and gathering the boxes in his sore arms, he trudged along the pavement. Every few minutes he would stop and perform the spell again to make sure he was still headed in the right direction, but the path never wavered.

He came to an abrupt halt when Ringo gave his hair a sharp tug. "Hey! My hair is not something that you can use for a nest – I'd appreciate it if you left it attached. Now what did you want Ringo?" The insolent bird tapped Orion's head again with his beak, and Orion had to set his boxes down to swat Ringo away. "What is it?" he asked again.

The blackbird merely spread his wings and launched himself into the air before gradually drifting and landing on the gutter of a rugged, run-down building. Orion looked at the sign, "The Leaky Cauldron," he murmured to himself. "No way _this_ is the entry into Diagon Alley? I know they said that a pub stood between it and the muggle world, but this is just…" He pulled the number two pencil out from behind his ear and did the point me spell, and sure enough, it pointed straight into the Leaky Cauldron.

As Orion beckoned Ringo back down from his perch with the promises of many dried cranberries and sunflower seeds, he observed the people walking down the street. Many walked at a fast clip as they traveled from point A to point B in the shortest amount of time possible, but there were some window shopping pedestrians. They usually traveled in groups, and almost in unison their eyes would slide past the Leaky Cauldron as though it simply wasn't there – that it did not exist.

This seemed to prove the validity of the pub to Orion (he had read about muggle repellant charms), and making sure that Ringo had a firm grip on his shoulder; he grabbed his boxes and made his way into the wizarding world.

The Leaky Cauldron had dim lighting and was rather sparsely occupied at such an early hour. A few patrons lurked in the shadows while a clean-cut man in black robes ate a hot breakfast while reading the newspaper. A balding man stood behind the bar counter and was cleaning various items with a swish and flick of a dark colored piece of wood – a wand, Orion realized. He did this while paging through a newspaper before abruptly saying, "Damn it! Puddlemere United lost _again._ And this time to Holyhead Harpies. At least it wasn't to the Canons, I really don't think I would have been able to stomach that."

The man eating and also reading the paper swallowed before waving his fork at the article and replying, "It's because of their keeper. I don't know what motivated them to put him on the team – although I suspect money under the table. Cheer up Tom; at least it's been three years. His contract is almost up, just one more year and then they'll be able to pick from the best of 'em."

"Ahh… I suppose you're right. I'm just still bemoaning the fact that Potter didn't go pro. _That _would have been a dream come true…"

The man laughed. "You're right about that dream part. As if the _Mrs._ Potter would have let him go pro when they had a baby on the way. Although, to be frank, I would have let 'im do the quidditch over being an auror any day. And Tom, that was fourteen years ago, best leave the past in the past. Well, I'm done – I'll be here through the end of the week, so if you wouldn't mind putting this on my tab… good. I'll be off then – oh, and it looks like you've another customer. See you!" The man folded his newspaper before walking over to the fireplace and after throwing in a pinch of powder, he stepped into the fire and said, "Ministry of Magic!" before he disappeared in a rush of green flames.

The bartender's attention turned to Orion seemed to start for a moment. "Mr. Potter?" He asked.

Orion stepped closer to the bar and gently placed his belongings on one of the worn, wooden chairs. In reply to the man, he replied, "No sir, I'm Orion Thatcher. I was hoping I could have a room for the night?"

"Of course, of course. Sorry for the mishap – thought I recognized you for a second there. At a distance, you hold quite a resemblance to James Potter – right good man he is – but I can see that you're not 'im. Hair's a bit too long and you're bone structure's quite a bit different – not to mention yer eyes and age." He gave a slight chuckle, "But I'm rambling. A room, you said? How long were you planning on staying?"

Orion shuffled his feet, "Sir, I've been… homeschooled about magic up until this point, and I was looking to get a job in Diagon Alley so that I can earn some money before finding a more permanent location. So probably just for the summer, sir." Orion wasn't sure what made him lie about his schooling, but he did remember the comments Tom Riddle had written in his text books about how mudbloods were… well, he certainly hadn't had anything _nice _to say about muggleborns. If the social climate was anything like when Tom had gone to Hogwarts, he didn't want to be looked down upon for something beyond his control. It had been a split second decision, but Orion did not regret making it. It would be a good cover story and would help him explain his knowledge, and any holes in what he knew.

He had been learning from textbooks published in the late 1930s and early 1940s after all.

"Don't call me sir, Mr. Thatcher. Tom's my name, and if you're to be spending the summer here, we're probably going to be getting to know each other a bit better." A pensive look crept across Tom's face. "Since you'll be staying here for quite some time, do you think you'd mind helping around the bar during our busy hours? I'll be able to give you a discount on your room and you can fix yourself breakfast down here in the morning using whatever we have in back."

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition, Tom. Really, you don't need to give me a discount or provide free meals…" Orion began.

"Nonsense, if anything, you should be complaining that I'm taking advantage of the situation. You look to be as thin as a rail, so I doubt you'll be eating me out of house and home, and I've been needing some part time help around here anyway. Most witches and wizards your age are eager to be off saving the world or this or that, so it's hard to get one of them to just bus tables. You are of age, though, right?" Orion nodded furiously.

"Thought so, I've a spell on the bar counter that repels minors so that I don't have to worry about serving someone something that I shouldn't." Tom reached under the bar counter and removed a key. "Here's your key – the door is warded against alohamora, so please don't lose it. Your room will be at the top of the stairs, third door on the right. If you need anything, just holler. Oh, and you can worry about paying at the end of the week, and if you wouldn't mind giving a hand down here every night from 9:00 until 12:00. 'Til then."

Orion climbed the staircase with some trepidation. While his room at the orphanage had been okay and private at best (tiny and claustrophobic at worst), it had been his own. He knew every inch of the room, down to the loose floor board where he had found Tom Riddle's books. In fact, Orion knew all the key hiding places at the orphanage, where exactly he should disappear to if the Foul Four were in one of their moods (aka, Hairy Hunting). This new room would be unknown… However, Orion would never turn back his decision to enter into the wizarding world, so, he thought, he might as well suck it up and get used to his current situation.

One, two, and three – to the right… Orion opened the door with the key Tom had given him and peered into the room. He was in for the shock of his life – it was huge! A poster bed sat in the center of the room with bright light filtering in through the windows. Because Orion's perspective of the room was slightly skewed due to being raised at an orphanage, a "normal" wizard would view the room as medium in size (rooms could easily be expanded with magic, so the actual size of the room was no indicator of its worth) with clearly second hand furniture. Not great, but sufficient. It was, however, well kept (if just a tad dusty) and included the standard features one would expect at any inn. It had a homey looking quilt duvet and the window seemed to have a pristine view in the Swiss Alps.

Orion dropped his bag on the floor and gently sat on the edge of the bed in shock while Ringo left his shoulder in favor of an owl perch sitting on a desk in the corner. To him, this room was like the Taj Mahal. It was everything he had dreamed of and more. Magic seemed to be an integral part of even this simple room – for one, the scenery was not that of a dingy London alley (but rather a breathtaking view in a different country), there was no light switch – but several candleholders instead, and the portrait hanging on the wall depicted a bored looking wizard whose gaze was following Orion around the room with a very vague amount of interest.

Seeming to catch himself in a sort of hazy, surreal state of mind, Orion stood and began removing his clothing and belongings from his duffel and placing them in the wardrobe along the far wall. In a matter of days, he would have a wand and be able to do this all with magic – he would be able to actually _perform magic _like it was meant to be done_._ It was definitely a dream come true.

Once finished with organizing his limited possessions, Orion waved his hand and did a wandless _tempus_ charm. 11:32. Businesses would no doubt be open, and it would be a prime time to start job hunting, but – damnit – he needed a wand. He had hoped to get a job and save up a bit more money before buying a wand, but if Tom's actions were anything to go by (using a wand for simple cleaning and such), he would need a wand for any job he may want to apply for. Hell, he'd probably need one tonight.

He gave Ringo a light wave and left out some sunflower seeds so that the bird wouldn't be too crabby later, before grabbing what money he had managed to collect over the years and his room key. Then he shut the door and made sure it was locked before going back down stairs.

* * *

Half an hour later, he stood in front of a brick wall. He had asked Tom where he needed to go in order to get to Diagon Alley, and while the older man had looked a bit puzzled by the question, he had dutifully pointed toward a door. Which led to Orion's current predicament.

He had studied the wall for the past fifteen minutes, and was easily able to deduce some of the fancy warding that had been woven into the brickwork. Truly, it was a masterpiece – anyone who came in through this entrance made a mild vow that they wouldn't cause trouble within Diagon Alley. By using a wand, a wizard or witch used imprinted their magical signature… kind of like signing a contract or such that the person would behave. Oh, there were ways to get around it, but that would require a person to know that such a ward was there in the first place. Orion doubted he would have spotted it had he not been in his current situation:

Orion Basil Thatcher, at this point in time, did not have a wand.

He had tried to use his wandless magic, but somehow the act of physically touching the bricks in a certain pattern was the initial part of the unlocking mechanism. Sometimes, Orion thought he was too smart for his own good. Either that or the runes he had memorized about warding had caused him to go a bit loony.

Maybe if he just… Orion started when the wall slid open in front of him and a tall – no, giant! – man came through. "Oh! Sorry 'bout that. Didn' realize someone was 'bout to come through. If you'll s'cuse me…" Orion just dutifully nodded before darting through the opening while he had the opportunity.

He had read about giants, sure, but actually _seeing_ something so similar was a different experience. When his mind had finished wandering down this train of thought, he finally took in his surroundings: he was in Diagon Alley.

* * *

Please Review!


	4. Diagon Alley

**A/N: **Hello again. :) Many of you had questions pertaining to the story so far, so I'll do my best to answer them now. (I'm not sure if it's because I just haven't explained it well enough, or if this is truly that thought provoking and you guys are just excellent readers and questioning everything that you're told... but anyway, here we are):

(1) A lot of my reviewers were asking about Ringo/the blackbird. Is he an animagus? Some super-powerful-magical being??? Unfortunately for you, I can't really answer any of those questions right now, because Mr. Ringo's part in the story is a loooooong way from now. If you like, just imagine him as an intelligent familiar to Orion - a substitute for an owl, if you will. His part in the story is going to be a minor role for quite a while. (And yes... I am a HUGE Beatles fan. ;) )

(2) Why were Tom Riddle's books hidden in the orphanage? My reasoning for this is that Tom Riddle would hide the books underneath the floorboards once a year at Hogwarts was completed. He couldn't really take _all_ his books with him all the time - they wouldn't fit in his trunk! (I'm going to assume at this point, that he couldn't afford a magically expanded trunk like what Moody had, since he was relying on the Hogwarts' fund to pay for all of his things.) So... once he finished his seventh year at Hogwarts, I would assume he would never want to step foot in the orphanage again, and he would go on his happy way to becoming Lord Voldemort.

(3) Questions regarding the Hogwarts' letter (or lack thereof), siblings/Potters, the prophecy (or how it may be changed), and Voldemort (dead? Who's the BWL? etc.) will be answered in future chapters. Please bear with me - you are not being ignored, but the story is kind of developing on its own.

Oh! And Severus should make his first appearance about two chapters from now. ;) (Although he is referenced for the first time in Orion's presence in this chapter...)

On a final note, thank you to all of my reviewers: Adriana Black, Loony Dagda, Deby Magid, kayya, 8thweasleykid, Gondegoogoo, XLVIII, xXFreedom-ReaderXx, GalynSolo, Morgana-White, Dreams-of-Mine, Prd2bAmerican18, Chris, Vine Verrine, Tonks-is-cool, O Desperado Sweetie O, Xenia Marvolo, and Carola-x. Thanks also to those that added this to their alert or favorites! Cookies and milk to everyone for that. :)

**Warning:** Will be HPSS aka Harry/Severus slash.

**Disclaimer: **If I were making money from this, I wouldn't have to worry about things like papers and homework.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4 – Diagon Alley

Orion was exhausted. Initially when he had left the Leaky Cauldron, he had only intended to be gone maybe an hour or two so that he could purchase a wand, and then leave. However, after setting foot in Diagon Alley, he just couldn't turn away. While he had never really enjoyed Christmas (usually he was sick around that time of the year due to the cold drafts that seemed to seep into his room), some of his classmates had spoken of it with glee and awe.

That was Orion's exact reaction to Diagon Alley. The cobblestone road coupled with the quaint looking shops selling all things magical was a dream come true – no, it was like heaven on earth to the young man. So Orion had wandered from shop to shop, looking at what each sold and taking note of which ones had "Help Wanted" placed in their windows. Sure, he may have turned his trip into a mini-window shopping excursion, but while doing so, he may as well also begin the job hunt.

Eventually Orion had resumed his original task – purchasing a wand. However, a problem arose that he had not thought out originally. Wizards used a different currency than muggles. That had stumped him for all of thirty seconds, before he had asked a passing witch and been pointed toward a large building called "Gringotts". After much conversing with the goblins inside, he finally had a small vault in which he could deposit his earnings. The whole experience had been… interesting to say the least. Goblins were a prickly species and definitely guarded their gold fiercely, but honestly! The one he had been dealing with, Griphook, looked like he wanted to dissect Orion.

It had been very unnerving having someone stare at his features so intently and then begin muttering to them self.

If Orion thought about it, he had received this reaction a couple of times – where people would glance at him, seem to start (almost as if they recognized him), and then examine him more closely before seemingly shrugging the entire situation off and going about their way. Most definitely creepy and a bit odd.

Either way, Orion had his British pounds converted into wizarding galleons, sickles, and knuts. Now the only problem really remaining was actually finding a store that sold wands. A short "point me" spell later (wandless, of course, seeing as the whole trip was to purchase a wand), and the problem was easily solved. Orion stood in front of the shop – "Ollivanders" the sign said – it looked to be closed for there was no one manning the counter in front. Figuring that it was worth a try, he tried to open the door and noticed it did with ease.

He slipped inside and took in his surroundings. The walls were lined with boxes and boxes of what he assumed to be wands. From floor to ceiling, there didn't seem to be a single empty compartment in the honeycombed wall. While waiting, Orion nervously shifted from one foot to the other and tugged at the edge of his new robe. It had definitely been a splurge on his part (he already had plenty of clothing – worn and too big for his small frame, granted, but definitely plenty of clothes), but upon entering Diagon Alley, he had realized just how much he stood out in his muggle attire. Wizards and witches wore robes or more formal attire. Standing in baggy, ripped blue jeans and a t-shirt, his outfit alone seemed to scream for attention.

So Orion had stepped into a shop called "Madame Milken's" and had purchased the cheapest, simplest black robe he could find. The woman who fussed over him and took his measurements (magically of course), had tried to persuade him to buy more than just a standard robe, but he simply couldn't afford it. As Orion stood in Ollivanders, he fidgeted more than he usually would because he wasn't used to the feel of wearing a robe. Since he had insisted on the cheapest fabric, the cloth was slightly scratchy – nothing horribly bad, but to a man used to cotton, cotton, and more cotton, it would take a little bit to get used to.

Orion was so focused on the events that had occurred during his first real day in the magical world that he failed to notice the man lurking in the shadows, studying his movements, appearance, and magical aura. Thus, when a voice said, "Good evening to you young man," he was taken completely by surprise and nearly fell over as he turned around quickly to find the source of the voice. Usually Orion prided himself in being able to detect when people were attempting to sneak up on him – dead useful when one was a well-known bully magnet.

He struggled to find his voice for a moment, but after clearing his throat, he said, "Hello sir, I came here to buy a wand?"

"Yes, that is what people usually come here for," the man replied, eyes gleaming in the early evening light.

Orion flushed, but replied, "My name is Orion Thatcher…"

"And I am Mr. Ollivander. Tell me, which is your wand hand?"

"Well, I'm right-handed –"

"But you use your left hand as well… Curious, you're ambidextrous. That's enough." A measuring tape that had been previously measuring everything down to the distance between his nostrils rolled up and neatly landed on the counter. Orion watched as a wand was placed into his hand… vaguely he heard Ollivander say something or other, but this just felt… wrong. The slim piece of wood seemed to choke back and clog his magic rather than serve as a funnel for which he could channel magic through.

Wand after wand was placed into his hands – for Ollivander occasionally would place a wand in either Orion's right or left hand. Seemingly at random the old man would summon box after box, each being ripped from his hand as quickly as it had been placed there. Some felt… okay, kind of like seeing someone who you knew didn't totally hate your guts, while others just felt… vile. Wrong.

Finally Ollivander sat in a dusty stool and stoked his chin in thought. "Never before have I had such a temperamental and difficult customer. You definitely seem to have an affinity with holly, but… I wonder. I had hoped a couple of years ago… but no. Well, we soon shall see." With these nonsensical words, the man leapt from his position and was gone for only a moment before sweeping back into the room carrying a dusty, grey box.

"Here," he said, "Just give it a wave."

Orion held out his hand and took the wand. Not sure what to expect from such a simple looking wand (some of the previous wands Ollivander had brought out had some sort of pattern/symmetry or regal-ness to them, this wand just looked a bit plain), Orion allowed his fingers to grasp the wood being placed in his hand. Throughout the two hours he had stood in the shop, his hope had been steadily falling. Maybe _this _was why Hogwarts hadn't sent him a letter, because they knew no wand was fit for him. This doubt was swept away, because instantly, as his fingers came into contact with the holly stick, it felt as though he were being warmed from the inside – his magic, oh his magic was definitely all right. Never before had he had such a direct channel to it. It was pure, glorious power and wonder: magic.

It seemed almost as though time had stood still for Orion, but the moment passed, and the bright light that had been emitting from the tip of the wand faded.

Orion slowly turned to look at the wandmaker, and was surprised to see both awe and fear in the old man's eyes. "Sir?" he asked.

This seemed to snap Ollivander back to the present, and he murmured, "Curious, most curious Mr. Thatcher. Holly, eleven inches in length with a core of a phoenix feather. You will certainly be destined to do great things. Great things…" He cleared his throat and stood before going behind the counter, "That will be fifty galleons and eight sickles."

Orion very nearly gasped at the large figure – a single galleon was the equivalent of five pounds, which resulted in a startling conclusion: after this, he was very much, and very completely broke. He very willingly handed over the gold, however. Anything – _anything_ for magic. But as he left the shop into the early night, he thanked whomever was out there listening for allowing him to save up the amount of money he had. His secondary school teachers had all expected him to go on to college, so scholarships were almost thrown in his direction. Granted, he could only take a few of the lower value cash grants because almost all of them required him declaring what college he was going to be attending.

As he made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Orion never realized that Ollivander was still within the shop with a thoughtful expression on his face. He never realized that Ollivander wrote a detailed letter to a Mr. Albus Dumbledore about a _certain_ wand he had sold to a young man bearing a remarkable resemblance to another boy that had grown up to do great things. Great, but terrible things. So great and terrible, that the entire magical world still quivered at the mere mention of his very name. But no, Orion remained peacefully oblivious as he rejoiced in life and magic.

* * *

Several Hours Later

Orion collapsed onto his bed. Upon returning to the Leaky Cauldron, he had almost immediately been set to work by Tom: cleaning tables, running drinks and dishes to different customers, and even having to fend off wandering hands. The last thought brought a deep blush to Orion's cheeks. A man – clearly drunk after his fifth or sixth shot of fire whisky – had allowed his hands to creep down to Orion's arse. Orion must have emitted some type of embarrassed squeak, because only moments later Tom had come over and given a firm talking to the not-quite-sober man.

Tom had confronted him later and said that if such circumstances were to ever repeat themselves, Orion had his permission to hex the offender's balls off. Needless to say, Orion's face took quite some time to lose its bright red hue. He would, however, never be able to forget the feeling that someone actually cared, even if it was something done just out of proper decorum.

Either way, if Orion had thought himself exhausted before after wandering around Diagon Alley, he was now doubly so after working several long hours in the pub, for as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a lamp.

The next morning Orion woke groggily to birds singing – or rather, one irritable bird chirping and hopping around on his chest. "Alright, alright. I'm up now." He yawned and wearily cracked one eye open, "Let me guess, you're hungry, and I overslept?" Not receiving an answer, Orion allowed the blankets to pool at his waist as he stretched before rolling out of bed.

He changed into a different set of clothes and then retrieved his wand from the nightstand. Contrary to his previous thoughts, he hadn't really needed a wand when working for Tom. Sure, he had had several opportunities to use it, but he had really wanted to wait until he had tested a few spells with it. So, taking the outfit he had worn the previous day, Orion aimed his wand at the pile of clothing and said, "_Scourgify._" A beam of light left his wand and instantly his clothes was clean, not perfect, perhaps because the scourgify spell never cleaned as well as the traditional soap and water (according to one of the many books he had read), but still clean never the less.

A childlike grin crossed the man's face before he started performing other spells in abundance. When he was done, the room was spotless, there was a new squishy armchair sitting in the corner, and Ringo had a dish of freshly chopped apples and bird seed. Orion would have tested his abilities more, but after a hasty tempus charm, he realized that it was, in fact, already late morning. The businesses he had taken note of yesterday would be open and willing to take potential job applicants.

With this cheerful thought, Orion hastily pulled on his single black robe, and then tucked his wand into his jeans pocket. Absentmindedly he noted that it would be best for him to get a wand holster of sorts once he saved up enough money – it wouldn't do any good to break the thing he had waited so long to obtain. He then locked the door behind him to the sight of Ringo happily eating the food he had prepared for him. When he got back later, Orion made a mental note to let the bird outside. While hopelessly dependant on Orion for food and such, the blackbird was unused to staying cooped up inside for so long.

This time when faced with the brick barrier leading to Diagon Alley, Orion faced no troubles in swiftly opening the wall. Now that he was in the famous historical wizarding center, however, he wasn't quite sure where to start. Yesterday he had seen several job postings – the quidditch supply shop was apparently hiring, as was Madame Milken's, and an ice cream parlor he had seen in passing.

None of these had held his attention for very long – for one, he had never ridden on a broom and would therefore not be able to properly advise customers, and then he knew very little when it came to clothing and fashion. If Madame Milken's response yesterday was any indication, Orion would probably be "forced" to spend any earnings on more suitable or fashionable clothing.

The job at the ice cream parlor, he simply did not want to entertain as a possibility. Orion wanted to challenge himself and hopefully begin to apply some of the knowledge he had dedicated himself to learning for many years. As Orion pondered the options available to him, his feet continued moving without him giving conscious thought to it.

Walking without paying attention to where one is going in a very crowded street had never been the wisest decision.

Orion felt himself collide with another body. Instantly he scrambled to his feet and was apologizing to the platinum blonde man, he had not intended to not watch where he was going, but his thoughts had drifted, and the raven-haired teen seemed to have knocked over a wealthy man in some sort of higher up (maybe political) position. Definitely not the best way to start off the day.

"I'm sorry sir – I didn't mean to bump into you – really, I –"

"What is your name?" the man asked as he cut Orion off with a sneer.

"Orion Thatcher. I –"

"A mudblood, I should have known. With such a common name and clothes like that." The sneer deepened as the man's eyes flickered down to Orion's robe clasped over the muggle outfit. He continued, "Take this as a final warning Mr. Thatcher: _Don't_ run into a Malfoy and expect to walk away unscathed next time. Consider yourself lucky that I am in a hurry and need to be somewhere in a short amount of time. Good _day._" Like a wisp of smoke, the man disappeared back into the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, leaving Orion standing with his hand outstretched in a move to help the man he had unintentionally knocked down.

It seemed that Orion's fears of being looked down upon for being raised as a muggle weren't unfounded after all. If this Malfoy could see that he was a muggleborn with Orion barely speaking at all, perhaps he _was_ doomed. In his textbooks, Tom Riddle had added lines here and there either pertaining the text (on how to perform some spell better or more effectively) or to an agenda he had against muggleborns.

Well, Orion thought determinedly, he would just have to face the prejudices head on. Even though he had idolized and dreamt of a perfect wizarding world, he now realized it would most likely have flaws as well. Just as he had been looked down upon all his life for being a "disease-ridden flea bag", being a "mudblood" probably wouldn't change too much. He had succeeded before, and he would succeed again, even if it was without the friends he had desired or the companionship he had dreamed of. Alone – but perhaps it was how he was meant to spend his life.

Orion glumly let his hand fall back to his side before moving so that he wasn't blocking the pedestrian traffic of people flowing up and down the street. Maybe his best bet _would_ be to just apply at the ice cream parlor… he kicked a pebble and watched it bounce along the uneven pavement. What _was _he really good at anyway? The only thing Orion really had practice in was working with potions…

A grin stole its way across his face. Orion certainly knew potions – probably not in the traditional sense that a potions master would refer to and maybe not as well as a magic-raised wizard or witch, but he had excelled in tweaking healing potions, and eventually brewing said potions all with a basic muggle chemistry set. It had definitely come in handy when the Foul Four overstepped their bounds and started aiming to do more permanent damage.

It was definitely worth a shot – the worst they could do was say no and then chase him from the shop screaming bloody murder with a few choice spells aimed at his back… But that would only give Orion the perfect opportunity to practice his own shielding charms and defense.

With this uplifting thought, Orion's feet soon led him to the local apothecary. It stood on what was the edge of Knockturn Alley (not that Orion would know this, being raised in the muggle world). It was in fact, a respected establishment that sold the hard-to-find ingredients often sought out by potion-masters as well as pre-made potions for the people that weren't so very good at making potions: meaning over eighty-five percent of the population.

Orion, however, just observed the tidy shop that had drawers upon drawers lining the walls of the room. The drawers were of all different sizes, and seemed to be organized in no way what so ever. At about shoulder level, the drawers gave way to glass cabinets that held hundreds and hundreds of bottles holding various sized vials, bottles and flasks. The ceiling was easily twelve feet in height, so the sliding ladder that was currently in the corner was obviously needed to access the topmost shelves.

Orion was just about to step forward and study the contents of the vials more closely when he heard a door swing open. His head snapped toward the origin of the noise, and he was greeted with the sight of a middle-aged, russet-haired wizard coming out from a back room.

"Hello there – a bit early for your Hogwarts shopping, I'll admit, but no matter. Your Professor Snape just sent over what you'll be needing for the beginning of your next school year. I'll take a guess that you're in his Newt level class – the less serious students never really did like his class and would never dream of setting foot in here in June – so you'll need to purchase a bit more than in previous years… Now is this your sixth or seventh year at Hogwarts, lad?" The man had previously been bustling about, gathering ingredients from various drawers and bundling them up as he went, each sent to the front counter with a slight wave of his wand as he finished wrapping them in a thin paper.

After he asked his last question, his gaze turned promptly to Orion, his dark brown eyes boring into Orion's own bright green orbs. "Err… Actually sir, I don't go to Hogwarts."

"Ahh… Perhaps Durmstrang or Beauxbatons? I'm sorry to say that I don't have their supply lists yet – I am not as well acquainted with their professors since we usually don't get their students shopping in Diagon Alley. Pity really…"

"No sir, I came here to just –"

"Looking for a potion? We have many premade and at the public's disposal, the more… hazardous ones are regulated by the ministry, but if you have a permit, then it shouldn't be a problem for us to acquire or make it for you."

Orion sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "No. I was actually here in order to inquire about a job for the summer."

The man appeared gob smacked for about fifteen seconds, before his eyes narrowed and his demeanor lost the salesman type of persona. "How old are you – fourteen, fifteen at most? And you say you are not here to buy potions ingredients – that you are not even in a potions class! I doubt you could tell me the fourteenth step of the felix felicis potion, or even the much simpler task of where I would find a bezoar! I may have considered if you were currently in an apprenticeship, but as you can see, we're not hiring now, and certainly not as some failed attempt as a practical joke."

Orion felt the brunt of the man's verbal attack – but in comparison to being insulted for his looks, his sickliness, or even for his "freakishness", these blows fell remarkably short in Orion's mind. Even having his very name being brought under scrutiny would have been more hurtful – when Orion had been in primary school he had been teased ruthlessly for having such an abnormal first name. His fellow students had said his middle name was no better, Basil, like Basil Rathbone, as if his mother had been obsessive over Sherlock Holmes!

Only under an hour ago he had been cruelly degraded by Malfoy, but this couldn't even begin to compare with that! This man was attempting to insult Orion's intelligence, and the one thing Orion had always been sure of his entire life was his intellect.

It had been the one thing, after all that saved his "scrawny neck" when being chased under the pretense of "Hairy Hunting".

The apparent owner of the shop had turned away in a fit of anger and was carefully putting all the ingredients he had been previously collecting back in their original places. Steeling himself for the worst, Orion began, "For the fourteenth step of the felix felicis potion, to go by the books you would add six crushed nettles while the base is in a low simmer. However, if one were to cross-reference this with any basic background of runes and arithmancy, it would in fact be best to add _seven_ crushed nettles seeing as seven is considered to be a number of good luck and stability. For your second question, a bezoar could be found in the stomach of a goat and cures most poisons, with the poison of a basilisk being one notable exception. Is this up to your standard, _sir?_"

Sometime during Orion's speech, the man had turned around and begun to listen. "What is the most dangerous step when preparing Drought of the Living Death?"

"When adding the single sopophorous bean… if you add it too early, the draught may become… volatile, but if you add it too late, then you've just wasted several hours of your time," Orion responded.

"Sixth step of Healing Draught 32?"

"More commonly known as Third-Degree Burn Salve, stir twenty-two times counter-clockwise while adding chopped sugar-root."

"You say you haven't attended Hogwarts… have you had any official schooling?" the man asked.

Orion shook his head, "I was homeschooled for the most part using a… relative's old textbooks. I found potions to be the one thing I could practice sufficiently without any restrictions."

"What did you say your name was then?"

"Orion Thatcher, _sir._ And for the record, I turned seventeen almost six months ago."

The man looked abashed for a moment before saying, "And I'm Jonathan Baker. And what year did you say these books were published in?"

"Late 1930s and early 1940s, Mr. Baker."

"By jove… Alright. As of right now, I'm giving you one week to prove yourself – consider it a probationary period. I expect 110% effort from you since I'm going to have to bring you up to speed, for while you haven't missed a _huge_ amount if you've studied the magical properties properly, there have been several key inventions in the field… Oh, and if I catch you nicking any ingredients, consider yourself fired and reported to the ministry. On a final note, if you make it to the end of the week, it's just Jon, okay?"

"Only if you'll call me Orion."

"Indeed. Anyhow, if you'll come back here, I can show you around. You see, we get a lot of orders, so the potions have to…"

Orion listened happily to his new boss's enthusiasm for the subject as he showed him around the apothecary. Yes, this was exactly what he had thought the wizarding world would be like – pure magic.

Too bad trouble still lurked on the horizon.

* * *

Please Review! (My next update may take a little while longer because I've barely started the next chapter, and I have to get a bunch of stuff done before Thanksgiving break. I will promise you an update before Turkey Day though. :) )


	5. Letters

**A/N: **Hi again! Thankyou guys for waiting so patiently for the next update. School sucks when all the papers are due at the same time. Hopefully now that I'm home for break I can get ahead a bit so that some regular updates can be expected. I know the last chapter was kinda boring (sorry... every story has them, unfortunately), but more happens in this chapter so hopefully it won't bore you to death. A lot of your questions are either answered or alluded to in this chapter (which will probably cause more questions to emerge).

(1) One point that I did want to address, though, was the price of the holly and phoenix feather wand last chapter. I had looked up the price conversion of galleons into pounds and dollars, but had honestly forgotten that JK Rowling had referenced the actual price in the books. It's been a while since I've read them... My reasoning behind the high price was that it takes skill to create wands, the ingredients/supplies are expensive and not exactly easy to come by, and since a wand is a witch or wizard's MOST important thing, I thought that it would be pretty expensive. I remembered that Ron couldn't buy a replacement wand right a way as well, so I reasoned that a wand had to be more than a few galleons... I was wrong. Eh.

Thankyous to sernity1806, 8thweasleykid, cleofine_cat, kayya, Midday Moonlight, Adriana Black, Jisa, Morgana-White, Chris, Elfwyn, J.L.M Potter, Din7, momocolady, Dreams-of-Mine, Vine Verrine, Kittona, paranoidbychoice, brightsun89, adenoide, Paon, sanystyle, and rarestlove27. Thankyou also to all those that added this to their alerts or favorites (I checked the other day and I was blown away that I had over 100 alerts! Your guys' support inspires me to write, so thankyou! Especially to those of you who could find words for their support. ;) )

**Warnings:** HP/SS aka Harry/Severus SLASH.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine... If it were I would own Severus and then... Bad thoughts. :D (I have a strange urge to hit my head like Dobby.)

* * *

Chapter 5 - Letters

_June_

Albus was having a trying day.

It had started off innocuously enough, Hagrid had merely inquired about the possibility of beginning a breeding program to create a hybrid he called a "blast-ended skrewt". Of course Albus knew that this program was already well underway – Hagrid already had several specimens carefully "concealed" behind his hut. But Albus had played along and had said that it was okay as long as he did the proper research and used safety precautions – which translated to, "I know exactly what's going on Rubeus, just don't kill yourself in the process, and please get me another batch of lemon drops."

Problem solved. However, after this one tiny event, everything just seemed to escalate. Severus was gleefully (in his own particular way) rejoicing in the lack of students by brewing an endless stream of potions and restocking the infirmary (as Poppy had _ordered_ him to do), but because of this influx of potions, he needed an increased amount of potions ingredients. Pomona had not been very pleased with their resident potions master as he had cut some of her plants to a "critical level". Thus the complaints from a potions master with a lack of access to the greenhouses and the objections of the resident herbologist as she complained that any potions master worth his salt could afford to purchase the supplies from an apothecary without "underhandedly" stealing prize Devil's Snare, escalated.

While it was an entertaining argument to watch, it was not something Albus wanted to become particularly involved in. Severus loved his experimenting and _nothing_ would stand in his way while he was free of students, while Pomona Sprout thought that her plants deserved a bit more respect and at least a thank you. Yes, definitely not one argument he wanted to become involved in.

Later, owls had flooded his office proving that the ministry was as obtuse as ever and wanted, no demanded, Albus's presence so that such and such a pointless document could be signed. Yet despite the great demand for his support in many different things, the things that truly mattered he had little influence over. So far his plans to slowly integrate the idea that Voldemort may not be as dead as everyone wished him to be had failed spectacularly. Fudge loved power, and even suggesting the idea that the century's darkest wizard may not be dead was preposterous. Such a thought would drag the prime minister's "good" name through the gutters of the Daily Prophet. It would be the equivalent of tarring and feathering one's reputation, and Fudge would have to say good-bye to his power and gold bribes.

Not exactly going to happen any time soon.

So while this dilemma wasn't going to be fixed any time soon – Albus was sure he had a few more years yet until Tom attempted another resurrection attempt (being forcibly evicted from Quirrell's body when attempting to steal the Sorcerer's Stone had been a huge setback) – he still needed to start planning for the war. For a war would come, it was just a matter of when.

He had hoped for many things that Halloween night fourteen years ago – had almost been sure what the prophecy had foretold. No matter that he had only heard the first half before the Three Broomsticks had been attacked by Deatheaters. Despite not hearing the whole prophecy (something he deeply regretted), Albus was in some ways very glad that he had been interrupted. Without that, he would never have caught Severus Snape eavesdropping on the words that Sybill Trelawney spoke. Would never have stopped him from going straight to Tom – Voldemort - with the words that would change the wizarding world. Albus still wasn't quite sure how Voldemort learned the contents of the prophecy; all he knew for sure was that the world's darkest wizard hadn't heard the prophecy in its entirety.

But by stopping Severus that night, he was able to see through to a man that still deeply loved a woman who had irrevocably turned from him in her fifth year of Hogwarts. In that moment, he had lost one night of knowledge (by not knowing all of the prophecy's contents), but he had gained years worth of information with the addition of a spy. Albus had not wanted to trust Severus immediately – he was a Deatheater and had partook in the torturing of innocents, but he could also see the lost boy that was struggling to find friendship and had finally turned back to the light so that he might save his one true friend from childhood.

That night at the Three Broomsticks, Albus had easily helped clear Hogsmede of any remaining Deatheaters before he dragged Severus back to Hogwarts. There, he was finally able to see the true young man behind the layers and layers of masks and pretenses as the famous "Slytherin front" was dropped. Albus had used several methods to verify Severus' loyalty – some that he was not proud to have used. However, through his actions, he had been able to verify, without a doubt, the allegiance and honesty of one man turned spy.

It was through his new spy that he learned of Voldemort's plans to attack the child foretold in the prophecy. It had clearly been between the Potters and Longbottoms as both families had "defied the Dark Lord thrice", but the next line about the end of time and a solstice had been puzzling. Albus had decided to send both families into hiding, but it soon became clear which baby would be the wizarding world's savior – Neville Longbottom was born on June thirtieth, so close to the summer solstice and yet just as the month was dying. Despite all his efforts otherwise, the Longbottoms had been attacked and poor Neville was left without a family – another piece that fit in perfectly with the prophecy.

But despite the loss of two very brave lives that fateful night, the boy-who-lived had saved them all.

Albus shook his head slightly to remove himself from the events of years past. Pondering over these events would not alter them in any way or make the future any clearer. Neville was a good boy – spoiled perhaps in being raised as a young prince in many ways, but a good boy none the less. So what that the holly phoenix wand hadn't chosen him – so what if a slightly vindictive streak had appeared in the otherwise perfectly mannered Gryffindor boy – and so what if Neville didn't seem to succeed in his studies. The boy's childhood was vital… Albus had learned his lesson after Tom Riddle's bleak childhood in an orphanage. Knowledge and power had their place, but he knew that it would be love that would eventually bring about the downfall of one dark lord named Voldemort.

Albus's thoughts drifted to the other events of his day… Alastor Moody would soon be taking his place as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – it was actually with great relief when he had decided to hire the old auror. With the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, any extra eyes and ears would be extremely helpful. While Albus was perfectly content in hosting the tournament at Hogwarts, security did need to be increased a bit to cover all the additional students. Then he also needed to arrange for the different materials and workers that would need to come to Hogwarts for the different Triwizard events… So many things to do in so little time. Not to mention what he liked to call the ongoing "BWL Dilemma". Ever since Neville had arrived at Hogwarts, things seemed to spiral out of his control at the end of every school year…

A soft trill eased the tension that had been building through Albus' train of thoughts. Fawkes was indeed a glorious bird, a friend that he would be able to rely on always. It seemed that lately he had been needing the phoenix's soft music more and more as his stress levels increased. Most people thought that being the headmaster at a boarding school would be an easy job, but after factoring in all of his other responsibilities, Albus sometimes felt that he barely had any time left to breathe. Just next month the Quidditch World Cup would be taking place, and for whatever reason, he could not help the foreboding feeling that crept into his mind whenever it was mentioned.

Another trill made Albus realized that yet _again_ he had been attempting to plot and plan so that the future would turn out for the best. He also realized that the paperwork sitting on his desk wasn't going to get done any time soon with his wandering thoughts, and therefore he stood and stretched before waving his wand and clearing the wooden surface of papers and documents.

Just as he was about to leave his office to join the other professors (a handful had decided to spend some of their summer months at Hogwarts) in their midday meal, an owl swooped into his office. Fawkes chirped irritably before Albus gave his familiar a long look and he accepted the letter from the owl.

Opening the crisp parchment, he was surprised to see the refined writing of Mr. Ollivander. Mentally, he quickly checked the date. No, he had definitely not missed their monthly chat about the political atmosphere at the ministry and the merits of muggle candy. (While the discussions regarding the ministry were important, Albus truly enjoyed trying to persuade others in the importance of muggle candy. It may have seemed to be a pointless thing, but lemon drops truly were man's best friend.) What was the purpose of the famous wandmaker's letter then?

As Albus scanned the words written on the thick paper, his expression quickly shifted from neutral to joyous to a concerned pondering. Apparently the twin to a certain yew and phoenix feather wand had finally been sold – not to Neville, the boy-who-lived, as he had hoped, or even to the Potter's daughter who would have been the next closest fit to the prophecy. Instead, the powerful wand had been sold to a young man holding a distinct resemblance to one Tom Marvolo Riddle. So similar, in fact, that Ollivander had at first thought it to be the Dark Lord's younger self, had it not been for the startling Avada Kedavra green eyes hidden behind a set of frameless glasses.

This did not bode well. Not good at all. Perhaps he wouldn't dine with the other professors just yet… Albus now had several inquiries to make regarding this "Orion Thatcher". Perhaps it would even be best to get the boy in a place where he could observe him and keep an eye on him… Ollivander described the young man to be at about fifteen years of age (although he wasn't certain on this point), but with a well-defined magical aurora. Why had this boy not been invited to Hogwarts? Everyone above a certain threshold of magic was invited in the United Kingdom area – both muggleborns and wizards alike. The only reason that he wouldn't be invited would be…

Albus certainly hoped that that wasn't the case – he refused to even think it. Magical children were valued at the topmost priority in the wizarding world because they held the future. For him to even remotely suspect that this was the reason… Preposterous and not to be considered. Although, Albus did still consider it, even if it was just his subconscious. For the only reason why a magical child would not be invited to Hogwarts was if a child was born of half-blood or purer status that was not magically accepted by its parents. It was a backdoor through which the purist families had been able to disregard children that had been procreated through affairs and illicit marriages.

The law also only existed because many purist families supported it and made sure that it never got turned over. Love was not always a factor in wizarding relationships, and so sometimes a bastard child was born through a hidden affair. Normally such a child was prevented from being even created in the first place, but in the rare case where the infant was born, they were cast into the muggle world, never to learn of their magical heritage. Appearance was everything, and key characteristics often were carried through generations in the wizarding world. If a white-blonde half blood were to attend Hogwarts, rumors would easily spread about the bastard child of the Malfoys: a deplorable condition in the eyes of purebloods.

Red hair thrived in the Weasley clan, blonde hair in the Malfoys, messy black hair in the Potters, the dignified looks and blue eyes of the Black family, the high cheekbones and dark eyes of the Zabinis, and the tall and stringy looks of the Nott family were just a few of the easily recognizable traits that seemed to pop up in every generation. If what Ollivander said was true about Orion Thatcher being a spitting image of Tom Riddle… Well, Albus could certainly connect the dots.

* * *

_Late August_

Orion scratched his quill over the parchment as he recorded the order that had just come in. It had taken _weeks_ for him to accomplish the neat script that now labeled many of the potion phials in the apothecary. Since he had been raised in the muggle world, Orion had used two things: black ball point pens and number two pencils. Both required little skill to use, but using a quill was rather laborious and backwards in Orion's mind. For one, he had to pause every few words just to dip his quill in ink. Second, since the ink was definitely liquid, it took a while to dry and thus when writing he had to be very careful not to smear what he had already written.

When Mr. Baker – or rather Jon – had first seen Orion's pathetic attempts at writing with a quill, he had laughed and then sat him down to show him the proper way to use the wizarding writing utensil. It was only _after_ his handwriting had become legible that Jon had showed him where to find the self-inking and fast-drying quills were. Orion had spent an hour or so mentally berating himself for not thinking of something like that for himself previously. Still, even after his "lessons", it still seemed rather odd to be holding a feather rather than a sturdy BIC pen.

The summer thus far had been a dream come true for Orion – every day seemed to be a miracle unto itself, and at times he was tempted to pinch himself just to be sure that he really _wasn't_ dreaming.

The first week Orion had spent in the apothecary had been brutal. Jon had pushed Orion to his utmost limits to see exactly what he knew, and then he had proceeded to give him a stack of potions books and manuals for him to study. All of that was already on top of the work he had to do at the Leaky Cauldron, and for Jon himself.

Orion's work in the Leaky Cauldron was pleasant enough – he was able to interact with a very wide variety of witches and wizards on a daily basis and he learned more about the magic world than through any book. For instance, he now knew all about quidditch – before when he had seen the shop in Diagon Alley, he had assumed that it was a fancy word for flying around on a broomstick – now he knew that it was in fact, a complex game that involved a fair bit of strategy, as well as a good deal of luck. Although Orion still had never been on a broom, he didn't quite understand the fanatic yelling and enthusiasm that accompanied it. Rules, yes, nearly insane sports fanatics, no.

He also learned many everyday things, like the fact that self-churned butter in the kitchen was a million times better than the stuff bought from a grocery store, or that the Floo was a form of travel that he most definitely despised – although apparition was not much better. Hundreds of other tiny intricacies made themselves known for every day longer that Orion stayed in a magical society. Most of it was good.

But some was… not so good. Cleaning up puke and piss, even if it is with a wand, was no pleasant task, and it often fell on Orion's shoulders because Tom had no desire to clean up such messes while he had Orion working in the bar. After all, hired help was hired help – what was the point of having it if one didn't use it? Also, because Orion had not been raised in the wizarding world, often times he felt out of the loop and although things were explained to him eventually, it was often in a patronizing or sarcastic tone. Sometimes when he cleaned up the table of some witch or wizard, the word _mudblood_ got tossed around. It hurt no less than the first time when Mr. Malfoy had used it.

Working at the apothecary was definitely something that Orion enjoyed, however. Monday through Friday he would come in an hour before the shop opened and begin prepping basic ingredients and making sure that everything was _just so_, so that when customers arrived they could be dealt with the best customer service. Jon made many potions so that they were on hand for any witch or wizard wishing to purchase them. They even had a mailing system set up so that customers could order by mail with increased confidentiality.

Jon was actually a "Rank 3 Potions Master". This meant that yes, he was a licensed potions master and was free to make and sell the majority of potions and any potions ingredients, but he did have limitations. The apothecary had a system so that the more difficult potions were made by more talented brewers (rank 1 and rank 2) in exchange for the rarer ingredients. Through this system, Jon was able to keep just about everyone happy.

At the moment, Orion was doing grunt work. He brewed the simplest potions that left the shelves almost as soon as they were finished, as well as tracking the different orders of ingredients as they came in from the different potions masters across the country. Usually he was able to weigh and measure out the various items before wrapping them up and sending them off via owl, but occasionally they had to be hand delivered due to their expensive nature. This was normally done by Jon, but Orion had had the "privilege" of dealing with some of the more temperamental and reclusive potions masters.

Orion set down his quill before performing a wandless _tempus._ Jon – as well as Tom from the Leaky Cauldron – had been surprised at the ease with which he performed some of his wandless spells. Supposedly it was a bit rare for a person to be doing such things with ease, but Orion was able to assure them that it wasn't anything _that_ special. After all, it wasn't like he could perform a wandless patronus – although that certainly would have been a sight to behold!

The _tempus_ charm showed that it was nearly time for lunch, though, so Orion organized his station with efficiency before sweeping back into the main shop. Normally he would go into the muggle world to purchase his groceries because conjured food held no nutritional value and he couldn't just eat out every day – that would keep him bankrupt more easily than anything else. Most families, Orion had learned, either grew their own food, or had a deal directly with another family that did so.

"You going to get lunch?" Jon asked.

"Yeah… It's nearly noon and since it's been a slow morning I figured I would leave a little early so that I could be here when the Hogwarts rush comes in."

"Try to be back within the half an hour, then. If those Weasley twins are going to come in today, I have the feeling I'm going to need every extra set of eyes that I can get. And try to eat a bit more for lunch today, Orion. Sometimes I think that infernal bird of yours eats more than you do," Jon joked. Orion rolled his eyes, before heading to the door. As he reached for the doorknob, Jon said, "Oh, and before I forget, you got a letter about forty-five minutes ago. I meant to give it to you after the owl dropped it off, but then a few customers came in…"

The letter was placed in Orion's hands before he curiously looked at the green ink on the cream paper. Although he had subscribed to the Daily Prophet, that was the most that he had ever received in way of wizarding mail. The fact that he had received a letter… was exciting, in a way. The letter was addressed to "Orion B. Thatcher" in a loopy cursive manuscript and on the back was a very familiar seal: the Hogwarts crest.

Orion's hand froze as he stared at the famous hallmark of Hogwarts. For so many years he had dreamt and longed for this very letter, and now he held it in his shaking hands. Jon seemed to have gathered that this piece of paper was more than a trivial matter and was voicing his concerns – but Orion did not hear them. His face ashen, he gently slid his trembling fingers beneath the edge of the envelope and reverently removed its contents.

Upon opening the letter it contained, he began to read:

_Dear Orion B. Thatcher,_

_It has come to my attention through an old friend and mutual acquaintance that you have been homeschooled for the past six years of your education in magic. It would therefore be my honor if you were to accept my invitation for you to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in preparation for your Newts at the end of your seventh year of magical education._

_I sincerely apologize in the tardiness of this letter, as you will only have one week to decide whether or not you would like to accept my humble invitation, for the school year will begin on September 1__st__. Enclosed is a list of the supplies, and a ticket for the Hogwarts Express leaving from platform 9 ¾ in Kings Cross at 12:00 that you will need provided that you favorably decide to attend Hogwarts._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; and Grand Sorcerer_

Somehow, Orion was able to mumble out his excuses to Jon as he left the apothecary in a daze. The words from the headmaster of Hogwarts repeated in his head as he mulled over their meaning. He certainly had no idea over who the mutual acquaintance could be – Albus Dumbledore was one of the wizarding world's most famous names and he had heard many people lamenting how it could take months to get an appointment with him. Who did he know even remotely well that would associate with Albus Dumbledore on a regular basis? Not anyone that Orion could immediately think of.

And why were they taking an interest in him now? After years of waiting and having his hopes let down time and time again, what made him so special now? He was nothing special – a brainiac with ambition, perhaps, but not much more. He had been referred to as a good punching bag in the past, but that wasn't what Orion thought he had been noticed for now.

Orion spun his wand in circles – a nervous habit he had picked up in his muggle schooling when he would spin a pencil instead. How would he pay for a year at Hogwarts? He might have just enough from his work over the summer, but an education at a private boarding school was bound to be expensive. Well, if one thing was certain, was he going to attend Hogwarts? The answer was a definite and emphatic yes.

* * *

**A/N:** I know... I usually don't do author's notes at the end so I'll be brief. I know I just introduced a whole slew of cliches in this chapter, but I hope to write it in a unique way and make it my own in future chapters. I don't want to ruin anything, but a lot of what is being seen is not what it first appears. I'm honestly not sure how you guys are going to take this, but if it ever feels like it is morphing into one of those dime a dozen stories, pleeeeeeease tell me, and I will do my best to fix it ASAP.

In regards to whether "Harry"/Orion is going to be light/dark, it honestly could have gone either way when I first started this, but certain plot points have made me decide on one over the other. You'll just have to wait and see which that is, however... ;) BTW, I'll do my best to shorten these author's notes. They're getting to be kinda long.

Please Review! :) (And have a Happy Thanksgiving - to my US readers!)


	6. Hogwarts

**A/N: **I would like to appologize to everyone for the long wait. After Thanksgiving break, it was back to school and finals, and then over Christmas break it was family and catching up with friends. I hope everyone had happy holidays!

(1) Someone expressed concern that I was abandoning this fic (and it's only been about a month and a half... please have a little more faith in me than that), and I would like to say that if _that_ should ever happen (God forbid), I will post something here so that it isn't a big question hanging over your heads. Like I said in previous A/N's, I will try to update every other week, but real life does get in the way occasionally. So unless anyone is volunteering to do some of my organic chemistry homework... :D Cookies to everyone in advance for their patience and for reading _Blackbird._

Thankyous to Morgana-White, Isabelle Eir, Jisa, almightyswot, Eilun, xXFreedom-ReaderXx, chris, Cat in a box, 8thweasleykid, Deby Magid, Xenia Marvolo, loveshbhp, brightsun89, cleofine_cat, rarestlove27, kayya, Dreams-of-Mine, cherrypi393, itachisgurl93, Loony Dagda, Sora Kohaku, Vine Verrine, miucela, Swallowing-a-Falling-star, , yuiop, Triden, solkatt, rtag, Loverofbothsexes5102, Katsy17, 1986, DedicatedReader, Terminally Ambivalent (thankyou doubly so for the pm :) ), .potter, and pixellation. Cookies for my reviewers and anyone who added this to favorites/reviews! Your support is most welcome. :D (And I'm sorry if I got any pennames wrong... fanfiction. net isn't cooperating very well right now.)

**Warnings:** This is going to be Harry/Severus slash aka Snarry, aka HP/SS.

**Disclaimer:**Regretfully, I do not own Harry Potter... I do own one set of the books in hardcover though, does that count? :)

* * *

Chapter 6 – Hogwarts

Orion was late.

If there was one thing the raven-haired adolescent prided himself on, it was his intellect and punctuality. This was why his tardiness was causing him such obvious distress. Of all the days in his life that he had to be running late, of all things, this was _not_ that day.

He paused for a moment to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. Kings Cross was filled with people bustling about – almost like a river of people as "traffic" ebbed and flowed as different trains came and went. If only he hadn't insisted on working a few extra hours last night at the bar so as to earn a few extra galleons… And for Ringo to let him oversleep! It must have been the first time in his life that the blackbird didn't wake Orion up with the crack of dawn. Normally Ringo took the phrase "the early bird gets the worm" to the _extreme_.

He glared at the tiny bird perched on his shoulder, but Ringo paid him no heed, instead meticulously cleaning the individual feathers of his left wing with his bright yellow beak. "Stupid bird," he mumbled while a fond smile ghosted his lips. Ringo only paused momentarily in his task before shifting to his right wing with a bright chirp.

Orion gave a slight shake of his head as he scanned Kings Cross for the mysterious platform 9 and ¾. Unfortunately, Dumbledore hadn't been specific in his directions and Orion had been in such a rush when packing his trunk (just purchased that weekend used, and several versions behind the latest model, but able to carry much more than his old duffle bag) that he hadn't even thought to ask Tom on his way out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Not even Tom Riddle had mentioned the specifics in his footnotes to the Hogwarts' text – heck, _Hogwarts: A History_ hadn't mentioned the actual method of getting to the platform! It included several moving pictures of the black and red train puffing out smoke as it traveled through the Scottish lowlands, but it very conveniently left out one little specific detail: how to get there. And it wasn't even like he could use the point me spell either – there were way too many people swarming about for him to be performing "magic tricks". People gave him enough funny looks as it was since he was carrying about a black species of songbird about on his shoulder.

Aggravated that his time was slipping away (he had seven minutes tops to find the Hogwarts' Express and board it, and that was only if he was lucky – did wizarding clocks ever run fast or slow, and was that even possible with magic? Or did everyone function on the _tempus_ charm as Orion had come to over the past summer?), Orion wheeled his trunk over to a brick column between platforms nine and ten so that he wouldn't be in the way as a flood of muggle business men and women departed from a train.

Six minutes. Orion really had the worst of luck – just when he _finally_ got invited to Hogwarts after so many years, he failed to find the stupid train that would take him there. Maybe it was some sort of test to weed out students lacking some sort of insight? With that particularly glum thought, Orion leaned back against the wall…

…And promptly fell on his behind as Ringo took flight from his previous perch, squawking at having been disrupted from his peace. Orion got to his feet and turned around, thinking that he had somehow misjudged the distance between him and the wall. He froze when the sight of the elusive platform 9 and ¾, complete with parents saying teary goodbyes to their children, while said students looked for a quick escape back to the train and their peers. Orion took a step backwards as he tried to take everything in, and found himself on the other side of the false brick wall.

He grinned at the genius of it (the wall was completely solid to anyone with no magic while those with magic were whisked away through some kind of combination between a portkey and a portal… He wasn't absolutely sure because he didn't have enough time to look at it more thoroughly), before he grabbed his trunk, and glanced around to be sure that no one was watching, before once again stepping through the barrier.

This time he was prepared for the disorienting feeling of being one place, and then suddenly another.

After finding his elusive avian companion (Orion ended up finding Ringo in a tree, and had to promise treats as a method of persuasion – something he found himself doing quite often as of late), Orion strode toward the train and hefted his trunk on board. No sooner had both of his feet found their way onto the Hogwarts Express before a slight jerk indicated the leaving of the Scottish train. The raven haired man had made it – and not a moment too soon, if the current movement was any indication.

Orion was just about to begin searching for a compartment with his trunk in tow when a group of giggling preteens sped by, nearly knocking him over as they sped along the narrow hallway on the train. Orion nearly hit himself in the head when a particular thought occurred to him: why hadn't he just shrunk his luggage? Was he a wizard, or wasn't he?

A slight narrowing of the eyebrows occurred as Orion removed his wand and waved it in a practiced motion over the cumbersome belongings. Years and years of practice waving a pencil about in precise movements and mumbling incantations under his breath had paid off as the trunk shrunk to a small size – easily slipped into the pocket of his black slacks. So far spells had worked the first time he tried them, like a charm in fact – no pun intended. Orion was just eager to have the opportunity to perform magic and apply the theory to real life situations. The main problem was that Orion often forgot that he could in fact use magic to do the simplest of tasks since he had been raised in the muggle world.

Orion had boarded near the front of the train and slowly made his way back as he passed compartment upon compartment filled with students. He had hoped to find one empty, but his hopes steadily fell as he finally reached the last car on the train. With a sigh, he began to turn around before his eyes fell upon what appeared to be a vacant room. He reached for the sliding door and gently pushed open the wooden and glass barrier.

Well, there was a man in there, but only one and a teacher if Orion judged correctly. Students typically didn't have dark grey, grizzled hair, and they certainly didn't have chunks missing from their noses, or peg legs for that matter. The only thing that made Orion hesitate before entering was the electric blue eye that was whirling about and in constant motion, even as the other eye remained closed and the man emitted a loud, raucous snore.

Orion gently shut the door behind him so as not to wake what he took to be a slumbering professor, and eased himself onto the cushioned bench opposite of the man, near the window. Minutes passed in relative silence, interrupted only by the snoring, moment of silence, and then continued snoring. A group of students passed by speaking loudly about their respective summer vacations, before that too, quieted.

Ringo had made himself comfortable on a perch near the room's ceiling, and Orion enlarged his trunk briefly to obtain one of his newly purchased books. He would have studied some of the seventh year curriculum, but if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had gone over much of it previously through Riddle's textbooks.

So that was why, when Orion was just settling into a passage about the relative properties of wolfsbane and how it contributed to the relieving of the symptoms of lycanthropy, that he was completely startled by the shout of, "Constant Vigilance!" and the red stunner following soon after.

* * *

Orion awoke staring at the shadowed ceiling and a distinct headache settling over his temples. He sat up slowly and struggled for only a moment to recall what had happened. His green eyes darted over to the misshapen man sitting calmly in his seat with his wand pointed at Orion as his eccentric eye followed a chirping Ringo as he hopped about the room.

"You attacked me," Orion said in an indignant tone as his own holly and phoenix wand aimed steadily at the man. He climbed to his feet while massaging his temples with one hand in the hopes of easing what was going to be one hell of a headache.

"Constant vigilance – that's the only way you're going to be able to make it in this world, boy. You always have to be on your guard, there are dark wizards and witches out there and you'll not be able to survive long if you don't keep it up."

"Okay then, will you please state your name and tell me _why_ you attacked me – if that isn't too much to ask."

The man's tongue darted out across his lips in a rapid motion, before he tilted his head to the side and proceeded to slip his wand into an arm holster. "Alastor Moody. Ex-auror and currently on my way to Hogwarts to take over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Dumbledore's asked me as a favor, and so now it's my mission to make sure you hare-brained students learn a thing or two about how to defend yourselves." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Ahh, you can put your wand away now at the very least."

Orion stared at the man for a moment and finally shrugged and slipped his wand into his pocket. If the man were planning on truly doing him any harm, he wouldn't have revived him in the first place.

He plopped back into his seat and picked up the potions manual to resume where he had left off. Half an hour must have passed in relative quiet before a gentle knock was issued at the door and it slid open. A woman stuck her head in, and upon laying eyes on Moody, gave a squeak before withdrawing quickly and closing the door with a snap. Orion raised an eyebrow and glanced over at his soon-to-be professor for clarification.

"I believe that would be the tea trolley lady. Sells sweets and such." Orion found a wand once again pointed at him, "You look to be one of upper years – why don't you know about this? Some imposter or former Death Eater? You're doing a splendid job at failing your task if that's what it is." The blue eye swiveled to Ringo for a moment and rested there for a beat or two before dismissing the small bird and came to rest on Orion once again.

"I'm a transfer student – sir. I've been homeschooled up until this point and Professor Dumbledore has only asked me to attend school this year."

"A likely excuse… Name?"

"Orion Thatcher."

"I don't recognize the surname… Muggleborn, perhaps? But Orion would be more typical of pureblood – who were your parents?"

"Uh, dead sir."

"Then who trained you up until this point? An average homeschooled wizard wouldn't be reading up on that level of potions – and certainly not with the attention you were devoting to it earlier."

Orion paused – he hadn't been _trained_ per say by anyone other than himself. But he certainly had the knowledge to hold his own in the seventh year. He didn't want to be held back a level because the teachers or headmaster thought that his education up until this point had been substandard. It would either become apparent right away, or nothing would happen. After a summer of working in an apothecary, Orion felt it was safe to say that his magical skills were up to par – Jon had been a tough boss, but had been pleased with Orion's competence level. This was why Orion only hesitated a moment before replying, "Tom Riddle," for it was the truth, from a certain point of view.

Moody's human eye narrowed while his magical eye stopped dead still as it focused on Orion. The ex-auror seemed to take in Orion's appearance, as though truly seeing him for the first time, and he gradually lowered his arm. "Is that so? A stellar student, Mr. Riddle. Graduated top of his class – he was only a few years behind me as a student. A Slytherin though… Entirely shady, the whole lot. I hadn't heard of Mr. Riddle in years though, it was rumored he was dead or off on the continent. He seemed to have disappeared some time during the war..."

Orion swallowed before giving a vague reply about one Tom Riddle. It seemed he was going to have to do some digging in the library if he wanted his cover story to hold any water. Tom Riddle… at the very least, he knew some details about the man through his notes in his text books – probably stuff that the average witch or wizard didn't know, although he couldn't be certain.

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur as Orion became thoroughly engrossed in his reading, Ringo proceeded to doze, and Moody did… Well, he did _something_ with his occasional wand waving, glancing in a small mirror (a foe glass if Orion saw correctly), and constant movement of his one eye. He even took a few swigs from a small flask every once in a while – and at this, Orion wondered if it was common for teachers (or ex-aurors) to be drinking on the job. It would probably help deal with all the nerves from teaching a bunch of hyperactive students…

It was only when Moody said, "We'll be arriving any moment, you're going to want to change into your robes," that Orion realized how late it was, and that the sky outside was dark. He arrived back at the compartment several minutes later after he had changed to collect Ringo and then departed from the train.

Students of all different ages were crowding around carriages, while the youngest of the bunch were climbing into tiny boats as the giant-man Orion had met at the entrance to Diagon Alley yelled, "Firs' Years! All firs' years come this way if you please – four to a boat… Quickly now if you will."

Orion turned his gaze back to the carriage he was about to board. It was being pulled… by well, nothing. He struggled for only a moment to recall what type of magical creature it could possibly be, before realizing that it must be a thestral. He merely raised an eyebrow in response, for it was certainly a strange choice of magical beast of burden. Ringo seemed to agree with this analysis, for there was apparently no lost love between the two different types of animals based on the way the blackbird's eyes were darting about and the strength for which he was gripping Orion's shoulder.

Finally, Orion climbed into one of the carriages, only to be closely followed by Moody. Upon seeing which coach the ominous ex-auror had chosen, other students avoided the buggy like the plague. "If this is your first year at Hogwarts, you'll need to be sorted. And homeschooled or not, I'll need to confirm your story with Dumbledore – just to be sure this isn't some elaborate plot to kill the boy-who-lived," Moody said gruffly upon sitting down. Not waiting to see if other students were going to attempt to board the same coach as the two (and none were. If anything, students gave a wide berth to the pair.), Moody hit the floor of the carriage with his gnarled, wooden staff and their mode of transportation jerked forward as the invisible horse-thestrals started forward at a brisk trot.

The ride passed in silence, as Moody was not currently inclined to speak with the possible intruder, and Orion was not in the habit of talking a lot since throughout his childhood and teenage years, he had no friends other than the small bird perched on his shoulder to talk to.

As the trees thinned, Orion was able to finally catch his first glimpse of Hogwarts, and he was not disappointed. The castle appeared majestic on the edge of a large lake (on which the tiny boats containing the first years were speeding toward the far side) with numerous towers and turrets. In fact, it looked remarkably similar to the pictures Orion had seen thus far, but the thing books could not prepare him for was the wave of magic that he felt as they traveled closer and closer to the school. The air was seeped with magic that was almost tangible, and Orion – even as he sat with a grouchy, paranoid man – felt at ease for one of the first times in his life.

All too soon, they reached the castle entrance, the large wooden doors leading into the entrance hall already open for the returning students. While still outside, Orion brushed Ringo off of his shoulder and told the tiny blackbird to go find the owlrey and that he would find him later. Ringo did so with little complaint (for once), but upon setting foot in the entrance hall Orion then had very little time to take in his surroundings, as Moody very nearly dragged him into a small ante-chamber off to the side of the entrance. The room was already crowded with the recently arrived first years, as well as a very stern looking woman wearing a unique, dark green robe over a black ensemble.

Her black hair was streaked with grey and was pulled back into a tight bun, while a wide-brimmed pointed hat was perched upon her head. Glasses rested on her nose as she focused her unyielding gaze on the first years and explained some sort of instructions. Moody waited for her to finish before he strode forward and said, "I have an Orion Thatcher who claims to be a transfer student here – invited by Dumbledore himself. Is he on the list?"

"Hello to you too, Alastor. Albus mentioned that we were to have a transfer student this year – a seventh year in fact, but he didn't actually give a name…" A moment later, a roll of parchment popped into existence and the woman studied the list for a few seconds before fixing her gaze on Orion. She gave a slight double take at first seeing him, as though she could not believe what her eyes were telling her. Eventually, she was able to glance back at Moody and say, "He's on the list… I think it would be best if we sorted him first, even before the hat's song. That way he'll serve as less of a distraction and there will be a separation between the two groups of sortings."

The stern woman looked back at Orion and said, "If you can follow me, I think the rest of the student body should be in the great hall by now." Orion trailed behind the woman as she continued, "I am Professor McGonagall, and will be your transfiguration professor this year should you take this course at NEWT level. Professor Dumbledore failed to mention what level of proficiency you had achieved in any of your subjects, so if you do desire to continue your transfiguration education, I will be testing your knowledge and skill level – as I am sure most of the teachers here will wish to do."

They had reached a door, and McGonagall pushed it open and indicated for Orion to stand to the side for a moment while she swept her eyes over four tables teeming with students of various ages. Gradually, the noise level dropped, and she spoke, "This year we have a transfer student, Orion Thatcher, and he is going to be sorted before the first years." Orion thought for a moment that that had to have been one of the shortest introductory speeches he had ever heard, but was quickly removed from his thoughts as McGonagall indicated for him to sit upon a short stool and place a very worn, black hat upon his head.

Orion gently placed the hat on his head and it was only a moment before he heard a voice say, "Well now, I never expected to see _you_ here… but no matter. Usually I only get to sort first years, and their brains are still developing, so impressionable at that age. But you know who you are already – or at least you think you do, at this point. Hmm… Good mind, very neat and organized… No, not Hufflepuff, I don't think – and too ambitious for Ravenclaw, although you would easily be able to match them in wit. Quite the need to prove yourself, hmm?"

Orion tentatively replied back, "You can see my mind?"

There was a quiet chuckle, and then, "Ah, not _quite_ that bit of spellwork, but it was a good guess. I was made by Godric Gryffindor so the spells I was made with are the predecessors to what you're thinking of. But back to the sorting – you show a remarkable amount of courage after having been mistreated all these years, so I would say Gryff- oh now _that_ is interesting… In that case, it better be - SLYTHERIN!"

Orion eased the hat off of his head and set it back down on the stool only to find that instead of the Hogwarts crest he had previously on his black robe, he now had a green badge for Slytherin, as well as a green and silver tie. There was a very weak applause from the four tables as he made his way over to the table with his fellow Slytherins.

He received some cursory looks, but was overall ignored as he searched for a place to sit. Gradually, he made his way down the table before finally finding a spot next to a silvery ghost. Upon sitting, Orion glanced up at the head table only to find a man with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles staring at him with a steely glint, his mouth set in a firm, thin line. Orion quickly glanced back down at his plate. Did even the great Albus Dumbledore have something against him? He had hoped his entire life for a place to belong, but it seemed that perhaps even at Hogwarts he wouldn't fit in.

The rest of the feast was passed in a dull haze, with Orion observing with a muted joy the wonders of the enchanted ceiling, the rather strange song of the sorting hat, the sorting of the first years, the eccentric actions of the headmaster, and the sudden appearance of more food than Orion had seen in his entire life. This caused him to snap out of his depressed state of mind and straighten his back to a perfect, ramrod posture. Even if he _wasn't_ accepted at Hogwarts, who was he to complain? The sheer amount of food on the table indicated that a period in Orion's life had ended – a time of hunger and bullying. Here, Orion would be able to practice magic with a flourish and perhaps gain new friends. Students weren't the only occupants of the castle – ghosts, magical creatures and beings, and even teachers roamed the halls and grounds.

It was with this final thought, that Orion began his first conversation with the Bloody Baron.

* * *

Please Review!


	7. Potters and Potions

**A/N:** Hello my lovely readers. I don't have much to say other than ff .net is aggravating because I had this chapter done yesterday... and it wouldn't let me upload. Other than that, I hope you enjoy the chapter. (We finally get to see Severus! :D)

Thankyous and cookies to my reviewers reader1writer1, sernity1806, Xenia Marvolo, sanystyle, lola, Jisa, Snape, Pellegrina, Loony Dagda, Vine Verrine, rarestlove27, Loverofbothsexes5102, momocolady, DuShuZhi, , Rainbow Music, and sesshypuppysbff. Thankyou as always!

**Warnings:** Will be Harry/Severus slash in future chapters... (we're still quite aways off though)

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter = not mine. :(

* * *

Chapter 7 – Potters and Potions

Severus was glaring at his utensils.

They hadn't really done anything to him (and they were infinitely better than those damn chopsticks that Albus had substituted for one meal – suffice to say, it never happened again), but it was certainly easier than glaring at Albus and getting a twinkly eyed smile in return or glaring at Minerva and receiving a wry remark that he was just jealous about last year's house cup.

Not that that wasn't partially true, but that wasn't why he was glaring at sparkling silverware and pristine plates while the students filed into the Great Hall.

No, the reason he _was _glaring at just about anything in particular was because the Potter spawn was back, along with child number two. Harriet Potter – entering the fourth year and only the _second worst_ student in his potions class, barely losing to one Neville Longbottom, boy-who-lived extraordinaire in the position of the lowest grade – and now an ickle Todd Potter, a snot-nose-wiping first year. It wasn't bad enough that Lily had to go and marry James Potter, the cruel-spirited bully that harassed greasy "Snivelus" at every turn, but now her children too had a heavy leaning towards humiliating and harmful pranks and tormenting.

Just teaching children in general was bad enough.

Severus glanced up as Minerva walked in with a slim adolescent trailing behind her. Albus had mentioned a new seventh year, and he supposed that this must be him. Orion Thatcher… he bore a very faint resemblance to Potter, but Albus had mentioned that he feared a connection to Riddle – to the Dark Lord.

Severus narrowed his eyes and gave a sneer as students checked the head table to see if they were still burdened with their resident potions master (it wouldn't be good to hurt his reputation if he didn't glare back, after all), before he focused again on the boy perched nervously on the stool under the sorting hat.

Depending on the way he studied him, he supposed that Thatcher looked a bit like either Potter _or _Riddle. The main reason for that though was the slightly tousled hair and the glasses – something the man before the Dark Lord never had. The hat was taking its time with the sorting, and the student body wasn't paying much heed to the boy under the hat, when finally "SLYTHERIN!" rang through the air.

A very weak applause was given, weak even for his own house. They usually collected some reserved personalities, but this was beyond the usual scope that things took. Severus watched as Thatcher walked to the far table beneath the green and silver banner, and then struggled to find a place to sit. His snakes shifted in small, precise movements so that suddenly, gaps were closed and the benches were "full". Farther and farther Thatcher walked until finally he was able to sit down next to the Bloody Baron.

Already the boy seemed an outcast from his own house, most likely because none of the purebloods recognized the name Thatcher – just as none had recognized "Snape" when he himself had attended Hogwarts as a student.

Severus turned his attention back to Minerva as a long line of first years came marching into the hall. It wouldn't do any good to think about the newest Slytherin in his house – with any luck, most of the attention of the students this year would be focused on the Triwizard Tournament (something he thought Albus a fool ten times over for bringing back), and not on putting the newest "mudbloods" back in their places.

When the name "Potter, Todd" was finally called, Severus clenched his fists and ground his teeth as "GRYFFINDOR!" was shouted to the hoots and hollers of the lion house as they cheered.

* * *

It was an interesting thing talking to a ghost. Especially when the ghost didn't talk back. Orion had spent the hour at the returning feast talking to the "Bloody Baron" beginning first with poor attempts at small talk such as, "The weather was really nice today," and, "So this is the famous Hogwart's ceiling?", before he finally gave up and talked about the potions article he had been reading on the train. At least Orion could talk about that and not make an absolute fool of himself when he received no reply back.

He was used to no reply from years of explaining things to Ringo, so it made little difference with the Bloody Baron. The only reason he knew the ghost's name at all was because it had been in _Hogwarts, A History._ It made Orion feel like a nerd that should have been placed in Ravenclaw, for knowing all these obscure facts, but snakes _were_ nice… And snakes were Slytherin's house mascot. That had to count for something, right? In general though, their conversation could also use some work. Dead mice were only so fascinating.

Dessert was delicious. Orion had hardly ever had the options of so many sweets in his life, but he definitely decided he liked the treacle tart. He guessed that within a month or two, his ribs probably wouldn't jut out at quite such sharp angles – in fact, he would probably have to make sure he didn't overeat! He had been finished for several minutes (and still attempting to illicit a conversation with the Bloody Baron) when the headmaster stood from his seat and clapped his hands – causing all the plates and serving dishes to clear.

"If I may have your attention… As you've all enjoyed your meals, I would now like to greet new students and welcome back returning ones to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A few announcements need to be made before you return to your dorms – as always, the Forbidden Forest should live up to its name and remain _forbidden_," a deliberate glance at a pair of twin red-heads at the far table was given before he continued.

"Also, dung-bombs and all other practical joke items are prohibited, and Mr. Filch would like it to be known that a complete list can be found on his door. I would also like to welcome a new member to the staff as your teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. He has recently come out of retirement for the position, and I expect you will learn much from him: Mr. Alastor Moody."

The man from on the train stood, and gave a short nod before sitting down – his reception was decidedly mixed, many of Orion's fellow Slytherin's even refrained from clapping during his welcome.

When the clapping had died down, Dumbledore said, "Some of you with ties to the Ministry may have heard some rumors circulating this summer about it, and I would like to confirm that this year Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Students from Durmstrang Institute and Beuxbatons Academy of Magic will be arriving prior to the Halloween feast so that names can be drawn from the Goblet of Fire. More information will be given to you by your head of houses and other professors before then… And on a final note, I wish you all a good night, and a good luck as we start the new term."

The Great Hall burst into a cacophony of sound as Dumbledore sat back down and the students began heading toward their respective dorms. As Orion followed the crowd of Slytherins into the cold dungeons, he wondered, what exactly was the Triwizard Tournament?

* * *

The Following Morning

His teachers thought he was crazy, or maybe that Dumbledore was crazy. Supposedly it was so very extraordinarily rare for a student to not have OWLs, that they weren't even quite sure what to do with his schedule when they were passing them out at breakfast that morning.

Orion knew he wanted to take potions, defense against the dark arts, transfiguration, charms, herbology, arithmancy, and runes… He even wanted to participate in care for magical creatures as well, but it seemed like there wasn't time in the day for the other classes, much less one more.

So that was how Orion ended up sitting in an empty classroom while each professor came in and tested his abilities. It was rather unfortunate that he would miss the first day of classes, but it was better to know where he stood, in the matter of things.

The first teacher to walk in was Professor Vector. She had seemed doubtful at first as to Orion's ability in math, but he agreed to take a test she just so happened to have "lying about".

"This can't be right…" Vector's eyes scanned the parchment that had taken Orion little over half an hour to finish. He had awoken early that morning so as to eat breakfast in the Great Hall at 7:30, but after barely biting into a slice of toast McGonagall had asked him for his OWL's, and upon saying that he didn't have any, she had ushered him into an unused room to be "tested". Maybe at the rate he was going, he would allowed to attend a class that afternoon?

"Is there something wrong, Professor?" Orion asked.

"Well," she began, "I can't let you into my class." Orion's gaze fell at that statement. He had thought he was ahead in math because of all the classes he had taken in muggle secondary school. "You see," she continued, "there isn't really anything left for me _to_ teach you. I'm not sure who your previous instructor was, but I gave you a slimmed down version of an old NEWTs exam, and you passed – with flying colors. You should be able to sit the actual test in the spring, if you like."

With a puzzled look on her face, she had left, still studying the sheet as though she could somehow divine how Orion had obtained his answers. Orion snorted lightly at that thought. If there was one thing that he thought was utter bogus in the wizarding world, it was divination. Riddle hadn't taken it as a student (but seemed mildly obsessed with prophecies and the future and such), so Orion hadn't had a chance to study it, but quite frankly, he didn't really want to either. He was going to make his own destiny – not let some psychic tell him what it was.

After twenty minutes of lightly tapping his wand against the edge of the desk he was sitting at, and calmly transfiguring some of his pocket lint into various things (from origami cranes to a mildly lopsided pocket-watch) and them charming them to do various tasks (the crane to fly and the watch to tick), he was surprised when McGonagall stepped inside the room.

"You need some work on the detail of your transfiguration… but that should come with practice and a bit of instruction. Filius – that is, Professor Flitwick should be happy with your level of charms if that is anything to go by," she motioned to the single-file line of paper cranes flying about the classroom as though on a rollercoaster. "Professor Moody sent this down for your defense against the dark arts test, and said he expected the answers to the three questions within a minute for you to be in his class."

Orion extended his arm and took the scrap of paper from her hand. The first question asked, _What are the three unforgivable curses and incantations?_ "Am I supposed to answer these verbally?" he asked. Upon receiving a curt nod, he answered, "The imperius curse, 'imperio', the cruciatus curse, 'crucio', and the killing curse, 'avada kedavra'."

_Incantation for the Patronus and two creatures it can be used against?_ "Expecto Patronum… Dementors, and umm… oh! lethifolds."

_Your first lesson?_ That made no sense, for Moody hadn't taught him anything. He'd attacked him outright on the train and then proceeded to question him to double check his loyalty and honesty. A smug grin twitched at Orion's lips as he answered, "Constant vigilance," for his last answer.

"Yes, I believe that will do." McGonagall swished her wand, and the parchment in Orion's hands disappeared with a pop. "If you will follow me, I'll talk as we walk."

"You've expressed an interest in participating in a number of different classes, and from what you've displayed so far, you should be able to take all of them. Professor Snape wanted to test you during the first class as he thought it would be more practical for potions, as did Professor Sprout for herbology. As for ancient runes, I believe Ms. Bathsheda Babbling said, 'If he finished the NEWT's arithmancy in half an hour, I will _make_ him learn runes whether he likes it or not.'"

McGonagall glanced at him from over her glasses, "You made quite an impression there earlier. Although our students with muggle backgrounds have always done better in the class… In any case, with six classes it will be quite a bit of work, but doable if you live up to Slytherin's reputation for ambition." She stopped in front of a classroom, "You'll be able to attend all your classes on a semi-probationary status as of now. If you'll step inside here and take a seat, I'll start the seventh-year transfiguration class."

Orion entered the well lit classroom and finally ended up sitting next to a brunette that he recognized from the welcoming feast. May the fun begin.

* * *

"I know you're a Slytherin, and Snape shows blatant favoritism for his house, but it takes quite a bit of nerve to enter his seventh-year NEWTs class. That means you're either going to be damned good at potions, or you'll get the boot by the end of the week – or period. I'm guessing he'd have slightly more patience with someone from his own house… Just be happy your last name isn't 'Potter' or 'Longbottom' and that you aren't a Gryffindor." She finally paused to take a breath, "Mind if I sit next to you?"

Orion glanced up at the girl he had sat next to in transfiguration earlier that day. She was in Ravenclaw, and had long, straight brown hair pulled back into a braid. Unlike the majority of his classes, it seemed that there was only one class session for seventh-year NEWT potions because there were such a small number of students taking the class. Thus, there was a mixture of students from the four different houses – although the majority did seem to come from the snake and raven houses.

The girl had been a decent partner in transfiguration, a bit straight-from-the-textbook, but if Orion was to guess, none of the students had quite the same background in magic and such as he did.

As a result of his lack of a "formal education", Orion tended to improvise, or make improvements so that potions were simpler to make with more common ingredients. In the case of spells and such, he knew that life was going to throw more than just theory at him, and that it would be best to be prepared with a large repertoire of charms and hexes that he could use. (Something he'd learned from the Foul Four, was that when all else failed: run.) After attending his ancient runes class that morning, he already had several ideas for new spells that he could start creating.

The most important thing though about the girl standing before him, was that she had treated him as an equal – had even helped him a bit in transfiguration, and hadn't automatically connected Slytherin with evil, something he was quickly learning that many students did. "I suppose it wouldn't be too much of a burden, if you wouldn't mind giving me your name?"

She blushed as she sat down, "Lucy Prichard. And you're Orion Thatcher, I know because of the sorting yesterday. Welcome to Hogwarts, I suppose. So, where did you come from prior to here?"

Orion was not given the opportunity to answer, because at that moment, the infamous "bat of the dungeons" Severus Snape came gliding into the classroom. The non-Slytherin portion of the student body seemed to think he was the devil-incarnate, but just looking at him, Orion couldn't quite come to the same conclusion.

He certainly wasn't a handsome man, but neither exactly was he as ugly as students made him out to be. With striking features, he was of a towering height and had a presence like the "anti-Dumbledore" with pitch black robes draped on his figure. The so called "lank and greasy hair" was pretty accurate in description, but then again, Orion's own flyaway head of hair would hang flat against his head after a long day of brewing potions too. With naturally pale skin, it seemed doubly so with the man's black wardrobe. As for his nose, it had obviously been broken at one point in his life so it seemed somewhat large and disproportionate to his face.

It was the eyes that caught Orion's attention – such a dark, dark brown that they were nearly obsidian in color. The irony of this very thought flitting through Orion's mind, was that his teacher was having very similar thoughts – about a childhood friend with avada kedavra green eyes.

The moment passed and Snape spoke, "As most of you were here for last year's class, you should know my policies and my intolerance for certain behavior. Do not forget that I will not hesitate to take points for infantile behavior or incompetence. As the first potion of the year, you'll be brewing Doxycide individually, rather than as pairs. The instructions –" a flick of his wand "– are on the board. You have until the end of the period. Failure to produce adequate results will result in two feet on the respective properties of the ingredients and _where_ exactly you went wrong."

No one moved until Snape gave a light sneer while lifting his left eyebrow, "Well?" This caused a flurry of movement in which Orion was able to collect the ingredients and begin the potion he had already marked up in his textbook.

He hadn't been able to make as many adjustments to the Doxycide directions, because he hadn't exactly needed it in the muggle world – his specialty lay more in healing salves and such. Never the less, it was decidedly relaxing for Orion to begin chopping various roots and begin stirring them into his new pewter cauldron.

Snape seemed to hover over students and made disparaging comments mainly to the lone pair of Gryffindors and solitary Hufflepuff, but Orion paid little notice. He was in his "relaxing" mode that he often went into during his time at the orphanage after a long day of being chased by the Foul Four, or even the methodical work he had done that summer at the apothecary.

At the end of the period, Orion and Lucy were the only two students who had successfully brewed the assigned potion, although Orion's was of a darker color and thinner consistency – perfect for the application of being sprayed at troublesome Doxies. The majority of the class had come close to achieving the potion correctly (it was, after all, a NEWT level course, and Snape didn't let just anyone in), but had obviously made a mistake in step twenty-three, if Orion judged their potions correctly.

Snape bent over his cauldron as though examining something only he could see, before he stood abruptly and quickly allowed his eyes dart to the margins Orion's note-cramped book. Then as though something puzzling had been answered and righted, he spoke to the class, "I see it was too much for me to expect that you dunderheads would actually open your books during the summer. For today's best brewed potion, ten points to Slytherin for Mr. Thatcher's work."

Snape waved his wand and two flasks flew out of the cupboard and into his hand. He placed them gently in front of Orion and Lucy's stations (which they ladled and labeled carefully for grading), before he spoke again, "Everyone else I expect that two feet of parchment by next week. Dismissed."

The class as a whole seemed to flee for the door at this single word, but Orion was held back by Snape when he said, "Not you, Mr. Thatcher."

Orion fiddled with his glasses as he waited for the professor to speak.

"Why did you choose to add the powdered Luna moth wings while the potion was still boiling?"

It felt like he was standing in the apothecary under Jon Baker's stern glare all over again. However, despite the strange sense of déjà vu, Orion answered, "Well, it usually wouldn't be done because it can cause a very volatile reaction if added too quickly, but if you add it while it's still on the heat source, the powder is able to break down more and dissolve more efficiently into the base of the potion. Since it's the main active ingredient, by adding it while the potion is still boiling, the Doxycide becomes more potent."

Snape smirked – a somewhat scary sight, as though a cat had just caught a canary. Orion was unsure if it was a good thing or not that Snape was looking at him as though he had just answered the million dollar question _correctly_… would it have been better to be wrong?

"Mr. Thatcher, were you aware, that up until about five minutes ago, Miss Prichard has held the top position in my potions class for the past six years?"

Orion's eyes widened. He had assumed that Lucy had sat by him because she had struggled in potions – it was something he was used to in school. Students only sat next to him so that they did better on their own projects. This had just made Lucy's actions infinitely kinder, but then was Snape implying… He shook his head glumly – he was going to be accused of cheating on his first day, and in his favorite subject as well.

It was thus a surprise when Snape spoke again, "I thought not. While Miss Prichard is good in potions, her expertise seems to lie more in transfiguration and charms. She is, however, a typical Ravenclaw in that she needs to be the best in every one of her subjects." Snape paused, and once again looked down at Orion's textbook. His forehead wrinkled as he read the cramped writing and notes. He glanced up, "Do you, by chance, know a Mr. Baker?"

Orion had been tensing under his professor's scrutiny, but relaxed at the harmless inquiry. "Yeah, he was my boss this summer at the apothecary in Diagon Alley."

Snape closed Orion's book with one hand and then proceeded to bottle the potion still remaining in his cauldron, presumably to keep? "Mr. Baker had mentioned that he had hired someone to help over the summer… What would you say to a proposition, Mr. Thatcher?"

"Okay…"

"You've shown promise and it was confirmed by the quality of this potion and the words of Mr. Baker. It is enough, so that should you continue to perform in such a manner for the remainder of the year, I _may_ be willing to extend an apprenticeship after you graduate at the end of the school year." The man had a slightly pensive look on his face, quite contradictory to the sneer and glare he had had plastered upon his face for the majority of the class period.

"I would demand that your level of work remain where it is, and should it slip, I would retract my offer faster than the Dark Lord can cast crucio. Think about it - I don't need an answer today or tomorrow, but the wizarding world needs more potions masters, and if I've judged your work correctly, you just _may _be qualified. Let that get to your head, and I don't care if you _are _a Slytherin, I _will_ take points and give detentions."

A light glare was leveled at him, but Snape merely waved his hand and the classroom door opened, "Leave, I believe you have a free period to go and study or do whatever you students do."

Orion grabbed his book and bag and left the classroom after giving a gracious thank you to his professor while wearing a silly grin on his face.

Two steps outside of the classroom, and he was ambushed by Lucy, "He didn't skin you alive in there, did he? I know he favors Slytherins and all that nonsense, but you are the new guy…" She wacked him lightly upside the head and said crossly, "And you didn't tell me you were brilliant at potions! I mean, I know you were decent at transfiguration this morning, but nothing like that."

Lucy continued talking, and Orion listened with one ear, but internally he was still doing back flips and cartwheels – a friend, an honest flesh and blood friend who wasn't just mooching off of him for answers to the most recent assignment, and a tentative offer that may go through at the end of the school year. Why had he been so worried about Hogwarts again?

Within a month, he would have his answer.

* * *

A few quick questions, if you could ponder over them and tell me your opinion - (1) Do you like reading the chapters in someone else's perspective? Usually I can get a lot more information out because the other characters know a lot more than Orion... (2) Am I making Orion's character "too perfect"? I'm trying to convey that, yeah, he's smart, because that was something that always bothered me about Harry Potter's character: that he was introduced to magic and then didn't really spend time studying it... (3) Any ideas for characters that I can use to interact with Orion? I can't find many that were seventh years during the Goblet of Fire...

And yes, Lucy Prichard is an original character. As of right now, I don't think she'll have a huge roll, and definitely not a romantic one.

Please tell me what you think with how the story is going so far... Please Review! :)


	8. Classes and Clashes

**A/N:** To begin with, I would like to sincerely apologize for the long, long delay. I have been experiencing some health problems that caused this six month gap, and also forced me to take a semester off from school for medical purposes, but fortunately, I am doing better. Just a month before school starts back up again, so I should take advantage of it. :D In the mean time, just give the plot bunnies a little time to work their magic, and hopefully I'll be on my way to regular updates again.

Many thanks to my readers and reviewers who have stuck with this story despite the appearance of being abandoned.

Snape, Tabbycat1220, cherrypi393, 1986, J.L.M Potter, Don't Riddle The Riddler, Dreams-of-Mine, cleofine_cat, sanystyle, Isabelle Eir, Jisa, DuShuZhi, bergsdeswolf, Xenia Marvolo, adenoide, Kairu117, Whillenwolf, loveshbhp, naplin, leo03, rarestlove27, Katsy17, Cross - The Damned Alchemist, Secret world, risi, fayriel, passionfornight, Rainbow Music, Anne399, rnl1993, Paon, AEthelinda, Silly, Gondegoogoo, Jens2, reason vs. rhyme, krista-shadow, Miso Muchi, ItsJustMe, Pygmy Puff of Doom, Sin Piedad, elwing59, bluefynx, iamtherealmaverick, Lyall of the Rose, Rainbow Music, Shae, shadowofmyself435, Mnemosyne, Ichihime, RebeccaSeverusSnape, Ren, and stars00006.

Cookies and icecream to everyone for their patience.

Special thanks to Pellegrina and Terminally Ambivalent for their thoughtful reviews, and to passionfornight and Vine Verrine for the slight poke to remind me that the story existed.

**(1)** I've tried to take your input to heart - Orion will not be "dumbed down" by any means, but I suppose I have been making things a bit too easy for him... *cackles evilly* In all honesty, though, he is smarter and has more common sense than the Harry of Rowling's books ever had. I don't expect him to go on a screaming rampage (see book five) or go running into things wildly. He's a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor. In regards to the different POV's, I will try to mix it up a little, but keep the focus on Orion.

**(2)** Questions regarding the Goblet of Fire and Triwizard Tournament are being postponed for the moment...

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Classes and Clashes**

_Mid October_

Orion extended his arms toward the ceiling as he stretched after two hours worth of studying in the library. Really, for all the time he spent there, he felt more like a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin. He snorted quietly at the thought – most of his housemates would agree wholeheartedly with the statement as well (in fact, some might even beg another house to take him, if they could lower themselves to begging in the first place).

It wasn't as if they bullied him – almost the opposite in fact. (It was an unspoken house rule that there was no internal squabbling in the serpent house.) Orion was unacknowledged, ignored, and generally viewed as a particularly dull pattern of wallpaper – a rather redundant way of stating that they simply treated him as though he didn't exist. It was mildly irritating that his attempts at conversation were completely ignored, but he would definitely prefer it to the beatings and chasing of the Foul Four's "Hairy Hunting".

While he may not have been completely aware of why exactly he had been placed in Slytherin or what exactly he had done to warrant such behavior, he had made one very steadfast friend.

Lucy Prichard, as a Ravenclaw, seemed to ignore the house prejudices that plagued him and any of his clumsy attempts at friendship with the Gryffindors. It also helped that he needed some tutoring in transfiguration and herbology.

As Orion collected his books and parchment into his bag, he recalled the conversation he had had with Lucy during their second week of classes…

* * *

_**Flashback**_

They had just exited the greenhouses when Lucy practically burst from finally being able to say what had been nagging her through the majority of the class. In her typical rambling style, she began, "Orion – to be quite frank, you are the greatest conundrum and walking contradiction that I have ever faced. One minute you're astounding the class and our professors with brilliant insight or wand work, and then the next moment you're displaying a lack of knowledge that would be obvious to a second year!"

She took another large breath before continuing, "For example, in potions you had Professor Snape – _Snape!_ Of all people – practically offering you a coveted apprenticeship and he hasn't ever offered any of his pupils the opportunity before despite being a grade 1 potions master. Perhaps the potions guild is pushing him to do so? But anyway, where was I… Oh yes, and then today you didn't even know how to properly handle a mandrake. A _mandrake._"

She shook her head slowly to emphasize her disbelief. Orion wished furiously for the comforting weight of Ringo on his shoulder, but his blackbird had taken to pestering the school owls or lazing about in the Slytherin dorms. Just as long as he didn't knick any more "shiny stuff" – it had been hell in a bucket to try and replace the stolen items to their original owners before they noticed their property had been stolen.

"So," Lucy asked Orion, "do you have an explanation or some sort of twin doppelganger that you've been switching places with?" He opened his mouth to speak before she butt in again, "And no lies or weak excuses like you gave Professor Sprout back there about using a localized silencing spell – I never saw you lift your wand once during the lesson."

Orion sighed, was this what all 'friends' were like? It was nice to know that someone cared or at least pretended to, but it irked him that someone could see through him so easily – Slytherin cunning indeed, more likely Ravenclaw. Hopefully a half-truth would satisfy. At least he fit that description of a Slytherin: suspicious of ulterior motives until all possible angles had been analyzed.

"I had a bit of a haphazard education – everything I've studied in theory extensively, but not everything so much in the practical aspects." He swallowed before continuing, "My textbooks prior to Hogwarts were also slightly… outdated."

Lucy looked pensive as she listened to his explanation. "How are you doing in all your classes?"

"It's a bit early to say since today only finishes our second week of classes, but potions has always been my favorite subject, and for whatever reason, I seem to have an innate knock for DADA – despite Moody thinking I'm a junior deatheater or something. Charms is going okay, not great, but okay, while runes goes hand in hand with the arithmancy and I think Professor Babbling will brow beat me into passing her class," Orion grinned while slightly shrugging his shoulders. "Transfiguration I've dealt with almost exclusively in theory and it isn't going as smoothly as I had hoped," which was the understatement of the century. Due to his unusual study of the subject, he had mixed results – some of his unconventional methods worked better than what was taught in class while others (most) failed spectacularly.

Earlier that day, in fact, Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside and said that he had two more weeks to shape his act up or he would be forced to drop the class. If only transfiguration had continued on in the same fashion it had the first day, when he had held his own. "As for herbology… let's just say that today was my first time experience with magical flora outside of theory and reading since our classes so far have been lectures." They were nearing the castle doors from the long hike from the greenhouses, and Orion braced himself for the inevitable explosion.

Lucy stopped in her tracks as though she had heard incorrectly. "Never?" she asked faintly before narrowing her eyes and saying, "You do realize that as an adult mandrake, that _plant_ you so carelessly handled earlier could have killed you?" Orion gave a tentative nod before she continued, "You must be near suicidal – of all the foolish and boneheaded things to do – Gargh! Men!"

She threw her hands up in the air before starting rapidly toward the castle. As they reached the stone steps, she pivoted toward him and began speaking again in a short, clipped tone, "As head girl – yes I'm head girl, Orion, no need to look so astonished – I'm taking it upon myself to tutor you in transfiguration. I should also be able to find someone to help you in herbology so that you don't die of sheer stupidity. I'm assuming you can pass your other classes without any life threatening acts?"

Orion gave a wary nod, and at his skeptical look (nothing in life was free), Lucy sighed and gave a slight smile. "I don't suppose you would believe me that I was doing this so as to begin a friendship while also fulfilling my role as head girl? Thought not. If it will make you feel better, one of my sixth year friends is in a severe need of tutoring in potions. I have no idea how he managed an 'Outstanding' in the first place to get into the class, but Professor Snape has been ripping him apart for his 'dunderhead maneuvers' and he is beginning to lose his sights on becoming an auror. If he weren't a Hufflepuff, I would have suspected that he'd used _Felix Felicis…_"

A trade he could understand and he gave an affirmative reply before parting ways and heading to the Slytherin common room.

_**End Flashback**_

* * *

Orion snapped out of his thoughts as he replaced the last of the library books to its respective shelf. Lucy had held true in the weeks that followed – she had held numerous sessions so that he wouldn't be kicked out of transfiguration. During the biweekly meetings, they had easily determined Orion's main problem. While he knew the wand work and incantations like the back of his hand (which was why charms wasn't posing a problem), he just couldn't seem to visualize the end product of his transfiguration. (1) Seeing as he was six years behind in practical work, Orion wasn't very surprised at this outcome. Frustrated, yes; surprised, no.

In addition to the tutoring she had promised from herself, Lucy had also arranged for a seventh year Gryffindor, Angelina Johnson to help him in herbology so that he wouldn't be "eaten or worse". (2) If it weren't essential for work in potions, Orion would have written off the class just so that he wouldn't be strangled by some rather friendly Devil's Snare.

The biggest surprise in the entire situation was Orion's tutoring of the Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory. While he enjoyed Lucy's company and viewed her as a friend, their friendship mainly revolved around schoolwork and other intellectual topics. (Occasionally she fell into the role of mother hen by saying he needed to eat more or get outside, etc., but he would never tell her that to her face.)

Orion had been a complete nerve wreck prior to working with Cedric, but surprisingly enough; the laid back sixth year was easy to get along with…

* * *

_**Flashback**_

Orion shifted from foot to foot while once again going over the notes he had written in Riddle's sixth potions text. It was going to be a disaster – or worse, Professor Snape would withdraw his tentative apprenticeship offer.

Just thinking of him made Orion glance up at the potions master hunched over a stack of essays and liberally using red ink to write scathing comments. When asking for use of the potions lab for tutoring, the usually blank or scowling face had stretched thin lips into a slight smirk before saying, "I think you would be more successful in slaying a basilisk than in imparting knowledge to the dunderhead, but by all means – your efforts could not make Mr. Diggory's work any worse."

While he wasn't exactly sure why slaying a basilisk would be especially difficult (particularly when one could simply talk to it or ask it to leave – perhaps if the serpent had a good personality or was doing no harm then it may be difficult emotionally to slay such a beast…), Orion was in no hurry to fail in the task set before him.

He was so intent on analyzing what a person could actually do with a basilisk after slaying it (potions, potions, and more potions), that he missed the golden-brown head that poked into the classroom then quickly retreated at the sight of the black figure at the desk. "Come in Mr. Diggory, while you may have all day to play games like hide 'n go seek, I do not," Snape said without looking up from his papers.

Orion's head spun towards the doorway just in time to see the Hufflepuff setting his bag on the table adjacent to his. "Cedric Diggory," the teen said while sticking out his hand.

"Orion Thatcher," he said in reply while tentatively taking the outstretched hand.

"So, I talked to Lucy, and she had said you were absolutely brill' in potions, but I thought I should warn you in advance – I barely managed an O on my owl which was probably more due to memorization than anything… Right now my practical work has been called 'dismal at best'," a soft snort sounded from the corner, "Just so you know what you're in for."

Orion relaxed marginally (it seemed that Cedric was just as nervous about the whole thing as he was, since his future depended on a potions NEWT) and began explaining the procedure and properties for the _Draught of the Living Dead_…

_**End Flashback**_

* * *

After the first few tutoring sessions, Professor Snape had no longer felt in necessary to supervise, which allowed Cedric to relax and consequently for his work to improve dramatically. Through teaching Cedric the potions, Orion also learned a lot on how to produce the potions with the typical ingredients. It was like an extended experiment because Orion was able to compare how his concoctions compared in strength and effectiveness to the original potion's recipe. The already cramped margins gained new insight and notes, such as that the Sopophorous bean should be crushed with the dull edge of a silver knife to get more juice from it.

All things considered, his education at Hogwarts was going reasonably smoothly. Orion nodded to Madam Pince as he exited the library and headed down the corridor. With the tutoring he was passing all of his classes and despite the cold shoulder from the Slytherin house, he had two more friends than he had in his entire childhood. (Ringo excluded, of course. He would never be able to replace his avian friend.)

Orion would have made it back to the common room without incident had he not heard a commotion in the courtyard coupled with the telltale jeering that accompanied a Slytherin–Gryffindor skirmish.

He slid his wand from his pocket and crept toward the scene. In the near Slytherin free area, a group of fourth year Gryffindors had cornered Draco Malfoy, who was being dangled by his feet and about to have his trousers removed.

Orion did not doubt that Malfoy had provoked the group of four into acting against him (sometimes the arrogant blonde irritated him too with his muttered "mudblood"s), but the ganging up brought unpleasant memories of bullying and beatings to the forefront of his mind. As it was, Orion was surprised that Malfoy had been caught without his two bodyguard shadows. Determined, he strengthened his grip on his wand before striding into the courtyard, his unknown Gryffindor heritage taking the spotlight.

"If you would be so kind as to set Malfoy back on his feet, I would be much obliged."

Hazel eyes met his, "You're that new transfer student – another slimy Slytherin. Who knew that the dark house had the slightest hint of loyalty?" A redhead snickered while nudging the boy beside him.

"While your insults need significant work, you should endeavor to improve it at a later time – preferably after you've set Malfoy down."

The blonde hit the ground with a painful thud. Orion kept his eyes focused on the four, although it seemed he really only needed to worry about three, because the bushy haired girl was pointedly ignoring the scene by reading a thick book under a tree. A quick rudimentary diagnostic spell showed that Malfoy was fine, if slightly bruised. As it turned out, he was already sitting up and watching the scene with calculating grey eyes.

"You have no idea who we are, do you?" an arrogant voice intoned. At Orion's mocking raised eyebrow, the boy continued, "I am Neville Longbottom," he paused for emphasis and upon receiving no significant reaction, continued, "The Boy-Who-Lived."

The ginger-haired adolescent was turning a bright red out of restrained anger, "He's the one who defeated your oh so great dark lord, You-Know-Who – and I'm his best friend Ron Weasley," he sneered while puffing out his chest in bravado, before casting a stinging hex. Orion leisurely cast a simple defensive shield to deflect the spell before expectantly turning to the raven-haired female.

"Since you're either intentionally obtuse or just plain thick for not hearing of us, the second generation Marauders; that," she gave a careless wave to the girl buried in her reading, "is Hermione Granger, and I am Harriet Potter."

She brushed a wayward strand of familiar messy black hair from hazel eyes, "All things considered, it was very inconvenient of you to interrupt us right now. See, my godfather had given us this wicked new spell to try out, and you stopped us mid-trial. Ah well, I'm sure Sirius has more suggestions for putting Slytherins back in their place…"

Harriet twirled her wand in one hand while looking thoughtfully at Orion, "And you must be the bastard child of some deatheater. No one else would stick up for this pond scum unless they were dumb and dumber… Your attempt to disguise it was admirable, but being sorted into Slytherin kind of blew your chances. Such a shame, but then again, nobody familiar with muggle culture would name a _blackbird_ after Ringo Starr – I mean, how much did he actually do to contribute to the music and songwriting?" (3)

Orion closed his eyes and attempted not to react to the obvious taunt. His eyes snapped back open with the tell-tale crackle of offensive magic, and unconsciously responded with a high-defense shield that would reflect the curse back on its castor (it would reflect low to medium level curses, but merely block depending on the type of high level curse). A shriek of pain reached his ears right before the gravelly voice of Mad-eyed Moody, "Knew I was right when I said you were plotting to kill the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hesitant to raise his wand against a professor, Orion was defenseless against the spell that hit him. In the space of a second, the world tilted and grew significantly larger. When he opened his mouth to voice his protests and explanations, all that was emitted was a high-pitched chirp.

"Interesting that the spell transfigured you into a bird of prey – I should have thought a ferret more likely."

Orion felt the world spin and felt slightly sick as his new sharp vision show the ground come closer then farther away. It seemed that he was being bounced, of all things. Vaguely he registered Malfoy slinking off in a hurry, but the center of his attention was the fanatical grin accompanied by a darting tongue and the laughing of students as a crowd gathered.

The red-head, Ron Weasley, nudged the now non-screaming Neville Longbottom, "Hermione said that he's a kestrel – the smallest raptor species… Think it's because he's a bird brain or because he's a spineless follower of You-Know-Who?"

Longbottom responded jeeringly, "Nah, I think that in being some big, bad predator that he's trying to compensate for something… Although being a small raptor wouldn't really change anything, now, would it."

The crowd laughed, and Orion began mentally listing potion ingredients and their properties to distract himself from the quickly growing nausea and the pain of being dangled from one leg.

Suddenly, he was unceremoniously dropped to the ground and vaguely recalled researching avian biology when hearing a solid crunch. Birds had a skeletal structure of hollow bones supported by internal struts and trusses for strength. While normally strong enough to endure the normal usage of flight and gliding, being released from such a height in a free fall would not bear well. Orion connected this with the sharp pain in his left arm, as the world righted itself and became the correct size.

After rolling over and bringing back up his dinner, Orion became aware of raised voices. "…Way to punish a student, I'm sure the Headmaster told you that. If Mr. Malfoy's account is to be believed, Mr. Thatcher acted in self-defense while you reacted in an unprovoked attack." Snape's voice grew quiet as he continued, "Now, is there the slightest chance of such an incident repeating itself, or am I going to have to go to the board of governors to rectify the situation?"

"I don't know why Dumbledore hired you – once a deatheater, always a deatheater. I'll report to him regarding this incident, a pure miscommunication, you must realize. You will have to forgive me for constant vigilance – we wouldn't want anything to happen to Mr. Longbottom, now would we?"

Snape and Moody met in a fierce glare before the retired auror retreated from the courtyard. Orion watched as Snape cleared the area of students in seconds while simultaneously relieving Gryffindor of 100 points and doling out a month's worth of detentions with Filch to the self-named "second generation Marauders".

When the last student disappeared around a corner, Orion struggled to his feet while cradling his arm to the best of his ability. He was so busy cataloging which potions he already had brewed for a broken arm and dislocated hip that he failed to notice his potions professor's scrutinizing stare. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he had already, in fact, limped halfway across the courtyard before he registered the, "_Mr. Thatcher._"

From the irritated tone, it was not the first time Snape had said his name. "Yes, Professor?"

"I would recommend the hospital wing to treat that."

Before fully thinking out the ramifications of such a response, Orion had already replied, "I should be able to handle it, sir. By my calculations, my arm is only broken in two, possibly three locations – and quite easily fixed."

"Oh?" Snape said raising an eyebrow. Like a cat about to pounce on his prey, he continued, "Since it is, after all _'only'_ broken in two, possibly three places, I suppose we'll just have to drop by my office and pick up a few vials of potions before we discuss your lack of self-preservation in addition to why you neglected to mention your dislocated hip, various bruises, and mild concussion. Or, if you would prefer not, then I will just have to withdraw the apprenticeship offer because safety is always an issue in potions, and unless you are in peak mental, and thus, physical condition, mistakes are made more often and prove to be fatal. Now which will it be, _Mr. Thatcher_?"

Orion gave a weak laugh before gesturing for Snape to lead the way.

* * *

(1) In my version of the Harry Potter universe, the person attempting to transfigure an object from A to B has to be able to clearly visualize the end product and how the initial item is going to get there. That would be why a first year is taught how to transfigure a match into a needle – they are similar in size and shape and it is easy to picture how one changes to the other. I hope that was clear enough. :)

(2) Yeah, I know Angelina isn't a seventh year, but for this, it doesn't really make much of a difference.

(3) Thanks to _reason vs. rhyme _for suggesting that I insult Ringo the blackbird at some point.

**Please Review! **(Constructive criticism and opinions are always welcome. :) )


End file.
